The Day My Lab Partner Died
by Amehhh
Summary: It was a simple morning when Julia's lab partner died.  Soon, a string of murders follows, all involving college students with a major relating to crime scenes.  When time runs out, she's next, and it's up to the NCIS team to help protect her.  Tim/OC
1. The Day My Lab Partner Died

**Hey all you people. Lovely day, is it not? As it seems to be protocol: a) new on here; give it a shot, b) please give suggestions and critiques, c) No, I do not own NCIS, d) waffles are good, are they not? :D**

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I awoke to an alarming shot. It sounded as if it was off campus, and my room-mate heard it as well. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I did. Ugh. It's way too early for whatever that was," she mumbled before rolling over and putting a pillow over her head.

"Okay, morning," I rolled my eyes. Unfortunately for me, there was no getting back to sleep. My first class was at eleven, and it was six right now. I threw myself back onto the bed, only to begrudgingly force myself back up. I turned on the lamp on my desk before grabbing a blanket to wrap around myself. May as well do that homework I didn't do last night.

It was the second quarter of the year, and soon, we were going to be assigned lab partners. However, it was not the lab partners some people may assume—no, we weren't going to be dissecting frogs. We were going to be paired up with some great scientist to learn the tricks of the trade—and to find out if we got what it takes to stay on top of our major. The opportunity of working with a real scientist excited me. Not just _anyone_ could do it. In fact, you had to pay extra money to support the university's program.

I grabbed my calculator from my bag and started to calculate statistics of the supposed blood spatter diagram on my paper. I couldn't wait until I had photos of a _real_ crime scene. Well, sure I could wait for the sake of whose blood it was, but the experience? I couldn't wait for it.

Faintly, my room-mate snored. Rolling my eyes and putting in some ear plugs (knowing it would become much worse), I continued with my work.

The dawn slowly started to break as I slowly started to complete my book. Looking out the window, I saw a mass of people rush to…somewhere. Deciding to investigate with them, I put on a sweatshirt and some slippers while grabbing my keys on my way out the door. Eventually greeted with the cold, fresh air, I saw a crowd gather around off campus. I heard disgruntled moans and agonized cries. As I drew closer, I noticed that the trucks by the sidewalk were an ambulance, a medical van, and an NCIS truck. What did they have to do with…? I could only guess it wasn't good.

My pace began to quicken, as I shoved my way through the crowd. It was a girl I recognized from my forensic science class. I saw men backing us up, as two men—one older, one younger, began to put her into a body bag. My stomach turned a little sour. I wanted my first crime scene, and I had gotten it.

"Federal agent! NCIS, back up, everyone," a young agent barked. "Did any of you see or hear anything?"

A few people, as well as I, raised our hands. "You're going to have to come with us." There were only five other people besides me.

I groaned. Not only being horribly under dressed, if you could call being in your pajamas being dressed at all, it was freezing.

* * *

"Tell me what you know. Where were you when she was shot?" An older man asked.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" I asked.

"Gibbs. Jethro Gibbs."

"Nice name. I don't know; I'm not much help. I heard the shot, and I woke up. I was in my dorm. The girl though, she's in my forensic science class. In my opinion, she's probably one of the best students."

"Is there any reason anyone would want her dead?" He asked.

"I can't think of any reason. I wasn't very fond of her, but she's still a nice person. The whole um…community service, sugar spice and everything nice kind of girl."

"So you didn't know her very well." It was more a statement than a question.

"Correct. First name basis, only. She and I were lab partners in the first quarter in a chemistry class. We never went to each other's dorms, or anything."

"Did she have any enemies?"

"Not that I could think of. I knew some people don't really like her because she's always so calm and collected. Boys like her. A lot. But she hasn't ever been in a serious relationship. Nowhere past first base. But I don't think anybody could hate her, really."

"Do you know what her schedule was like? After school activities, community service, clubs?"

"She wasn't a party girl if that's what you're going after. She did some community service, and that's all I know."

"Alright. Thank you for your time."

"No problem, Gibbs."

He opened the door for me. "Tim, make sure she gets to class on time."

"Yes, boss. Follow me," he motioned toward me.

I followed him like an abandoned puppy, silently. When we reached the garage, he opened the door for me and I thanked him. Maybe chivalry wasn't dead. He seemed to be a nice fellow. I started the conversation: "So…NCIS, huh?"

"Yeah. It's a nice workplace inside the office."

"And outside?"

"Not so nice, as you witnessed," he smiled.

"Oh, hang on." My phone buzzed. I smiled, "Apparently class has been cancelled."

"Very nice. So, how do you like college?"

"It's okay. Difficult, I guess. I took a couple years off to travel around. I mostly stayed in France and Germany. England for a while. Ireland for some."

"Wow. You've been to a lot of places."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty behind in terms of a lot of people. I'm twenty six, and a freshman in college."

"Well, you've been to places not a lot of people have been. That's pretty admirable."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," I chuckled. "So what exactly do you do in NCIS?"

"You could say I'm the computer hacker."

I laughed. "That's a paying job?"

He smiled. "You better believe it." Things became only slightly awkward for the rest of the ride. "Well," he said, pulling to the sidewalk, "here you go."

"Thanks, um..?"

"Tim," he offered.

"Thanks, Tim," I said.

"Have a good rest of the day…?"

"Julia. And, you too. Go and solve this crime!"

With one last wave, he drove off.

_Go and solve this crime?_ What was I _thinking_? Clearly, I wasn't.

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**How was that? As protocol: a) not a great start, b) hopefully will get better, c) please review, d) ...There is no d.**

**Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day :D**

**-Amehhh**


	2. The Beginning of the Beginning

**Hello again! It's a snow day, I have no homework (for once) and my head has inflated every since you wonderful people have reviewed/alerted/favorited this story in it's first chapter! Thank you, all! **

**Hopefully you shall enjoy this chapter as you apparently did the last!**

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The next day, I found myself sitting in class, seemingly unaltered by the events which had just recently happened. We had already had a moment of silence; in which everybody respectfully stayed…quiet. I jotted down notes from the lecture, certain equations, and whatever else our professor was rambling about. Sighing, I came to realize maybe I was altered by what had happened. It was frightening, in fact, that a murder happened so close to what I considered my home.

What happened to her wasn't fair and it wasn't right and it made me angry. It made me sad, and I was certainly confused. Was it possible that she did have enemies? That somebody wanted her dead? And for what reason? I figured I may as well call the number the man…Gibbs, yes, that was his name, gave me. I'd ask if I could be kept updated, I'd ask to be told when something happened: because nobody else seemed to give a damn.

Maybe they did, and didn't want to show it. Maybe they did, and they were already over it. Maybe they did give a damn, and they just wanted to get on with their day.

"And so, that concludes our lesson," the professor ended with. "By the way, students: next week, you will pair up with your scientist. So study up, and impress them! Those who paid for their experience, come up and get your partner's name and work address. Class dismissed."

I walked up, among ten other students, and was told my partner's name: "Abby Sciuto."

The address looked familiar, but I thought nothing of it when I shoved the slip of paper into my pocket.

* * *

Today was the day. I was going to meet Abby Sciuto, whoever she was, and work as her assistant for a few weeks. Today, I was channeling my confident punk rock look. I used hair spray in my hair one more time, before I figured my tresses had enough. I frowned. I wasn't confident at all. My abilities probably weren't that great, and I'd probably get laughed at for being so incompetent. _Don't think like that. You're an open slate._

I put a pair of spandex beneath my skirt, and began to leave the door yet again. "Hey, Tina?"

"Mmf," was the response from the pillow.

"I'm gonna be out for some time. Idunno when I'll be back."

"Okay."

I glanced over to the mini-fridge. "Don't drink all my Pepsi, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. See you, Julia."

"Bye," and with that, I left with the dorm's key around my neck.

I braced myself for the cold as I was nearing outdoors, but it didn't do me any good. It should have been snowing, I figured, with how cold it was. I zipped up my sweatshirt all the way to the top, and further. I had a hard time undoing the lock on my bicycle as I was dancing around, trying to keep warm. Finally, the lock was free! Hopping on the freezing bicycle seat, I was off on my way. The air stung like a thousand cold needles, but I wasn't one to complain.

That was a lie, by the way.

It was a painstaking fifteen minute travel to the building, and when I arrived, I groaned. The building I just arrived at? It was the building I had come to when my lab partner died. I tied my bicycle up to a rack, and grabbed my slip of paper. I figured with such a high confidential area, I'd need some sort of reason to get inside the building.

The receptionist, when I walked in, looked at me with a warm smile and asked, "Do you need anything, sweetie?"

Assuming that she either thought I had lost someone very close to me or I was a lost tourist in the D.C. area, I replied, "Um…yeah," I brought out my slip for her to see, "I'm from the University of Maryland, and I signed up to work with an experienced scientist. Abby…Sciuto."

"Oh, of course. If you go down that hallway, and make a left, an elevator will be there. You'll want to go to the second floor."

"Alright, thanks."

I followed her directions. Before I could make it halfway down the hallway, I was stopped by what looked to be guards, demanding the reason why I was here. I explained to them, showed them my official slip of paper, and they nodded. At first, I thought I could go through, which they promptly halted me again. I apologized, and was very confused for a moment, before they asked me to spread my limbs so they could frisk me.

I would have liked it if it was willing, maybe. ...Maybe. Not really.

Everything in this place was so snazzy and high tech, I noticed, now that I was here because I wanted to be. As I walked into the room, I was a little lost. I was trying to locate the team that I had seen yesterday, but they happened to find me first.

"Hey, Julia," the older man greeted me. "Gibbs. Remember me?"

"How can I not?" I tried to cover myself.

"This is the team you'll be assisting in general: Tony, senior field agent-" The man he directed to waved at me, "Tim-"

"Also known as Probie, McGeek, and Elf Lord," Tony interjected.

"Really, Tony?" _Elf Lord_ asked, visibly disgruntled.

"Shut it, you two," Gibbs ordered.

And the two shut up. That man must really hold power over them.

"And," Gibbs finished, "Ziva."

"How do you do?" She asked with an accent.

"I'm…nervous, honestly. Thanks. You?"

"Decent," was her response.

Gibbs looked at me. "Follow me. I'll give you a not so grand tour."

I had to smile. I think. Was that a good sign or a bad one? "Alright."

He led me to a room, "This is the interrogation room. One side, we interrogate, the other, agents listen in and view what's going on through a one way mirror."

"That's pretty cool."

"It would be, if we weren't in there so often."

"Touche."

He looked at me again, with what I thought was going to be his signature look.

We stepped into an elevator after walking a few more steps. Back down to the first floor, I assumed. When we stepped out, it was a string of hallways that I hadn't seen.

Probably sensing my question, he explained, "This section of the first floor is confidential."

"Ah." As the temperature began to drop significantly, I tried to wrap myself in my sweatshirt even more.

"Over here," he motioned to the automatic doors, while walking in, "is the autopsy room. This is Ducky," he gestured to the older man, "and Palmer," the younger man waved. "This is Julia."

"Hello, Julia. What brings you to NCIS?"

"I'm in a forensic science class at NYU. I'm thinking of declaring it as my major, so I'm going to be helping Abby Sciuto out for a month or so."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy working with Abigail as well as working here. As rough as it may seem, it's a nice place."

"It seems like it. The people so far have been really kind." I tried not to look at the body on the table. It wasn't so much that the body was opened in a Y-incision, as procedure, but that I was afraid it was my lab partner.

"You should probably be on your way to helping Abigail. I'm sure I'll see you soon."

"I hope so," I smiled. "Bye Ducky, bye Palmer." As we left the room, I queried Gibbs about Ducky's name.

He laughed. "His real surname is Mallard."

"That would explain it," I chuckled. For a place filled with crimes, deaths and unsolved mysteries, it seemed to be pretty optimistic.

"Last but not least, the grand finale: Abby's lab."

"Gibbs! I ran some calculations and it turns out that the shooter shot her from quite a distance away—maybe one hundred yards. He was standing on something—or he is very tall, considering the angle of depression." A woman in a white lab coat and gothic attire came prancing toward him.

"Thanks, Abs. I have someone for you to meet. This is Julia. She'll be your intern for a while."

I stuck my hand out for her to shake, and she gave me a funny look. "Has Gibbs already gotten to you?"

"It's possible," I laughed as she shook my hand.

"So, I'm sure you've heard of what we're working on?"

"A little too much, but yeah," I tried to keep a straight face.

"_Bye, Gibbs,_" she said. "You have your job to do, and we have ours. So, what're you most comfortable with?" Abby asked me.

"With forensics? I'd like to think that I'm pretty good at most of the things we've learned, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am," I laughed.

"Well, okay! I'll teach you the tricks of the trade without freaking you out too much." She stopped to grab me a white lab coat. "I like your choice in outfits, too."

"Thanks. I have no clue how you can even walk in those."

Devilishly, she smiled, "You get used to it. C'mon, we have a case to crack!"

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**There you have it. The second installment.**

**Unfortunately, when school starts up, updates will not happen every day, haha. Oh...but just you wait until the summer. Mm-hmm. That's what I thought.**

**Review, por favor?**

**-Amehhh**


	3. Me and Tim McGee: Coffee

**Hello, hello again, my lovelies. Here's the third installment! **

**I hope you rather enjoy it ;)**

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It was eight hours later, and my work day was up. If you were forced to be on your feet all day instead of a one hour class, you'd be tired too. I did _not_ want to ride my bicycle back to my dorm. Especially since it was, what? Six at night? Or in the afternoon, I guess one could say.

"Abby dismissed you?" The one named Tony asked me.

"Yeah, she did. I have to get back soon, it looks freezing out there." I peered out the window.

"It's rumored that Abby works sixteen hour days, you know," he smiled.

"Holy crap. Seriously?"

"It's not too weird. What's weirder is that she sleeps in a coffin."

"Well, it sounds homier than my dorm, I have to admit." Sadly, I was telling the truth.

"We'll be seeing you tomorrow, right?"

"Yes sir. If I don't show up, my blood type is AB."

He laughed. "Good to know. Bye, Julia."

"Bye, Tony."

I started for the elevator when Tim came from around a corner. "Going home too?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day, but a pretty good one, too."

We veered off into different directions. "Wait, the garage is this way…" Tim pointed towards the door.

"Oh, thanks, but I rode my bike here. It's out front." I pointed toward the window.

"It's pretty dark out. Are you going to be okay?"

"As long as the street lights are on, I think I'll be fine," I laughed. "So long as I don't hit any pedestrians or parked cars."

"I can give you a ride back, you know. Besides, you're in a skirt, and you'll be freezing when you step outdoors."

"That is true…" I sighed.

"Let me give you a ride home. I'm sure you've been working hard all day. You deserve a bit of a break."

"Thanks, a lot."

"Sure, don't worry about it. Do you want to get your bike? We can put it in the back seat."

"Yeah, I'll go do that." I started for the elevator.

"Okay, I'll meet you out front."

"Alright, see you in a few."

I had to admit, he was right, it was freezing when I walked outside. A gust of cold air hit me, threatening to blow my skirt up. _Thank God for spandex.._ My now almost numb fingers had trouble grasping the lock and finding the combination. After a minute or so of pure frustration, I had the lock in one hand, and the bicycle in the other.

Tim kept his word, and drove up in a grey car, and rolled down his window. "Hop in."

"My bike's a bit wet. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all, just throw it in the back," he offered a smile.

"Mkay, cool."

I opened the backseat, and gently propped the bicycle on the seat. Slamming it shut, I walked back around the car and jumped into the shotgun.

"So how was your day?" I asked him.

"It was okay. We spent most of the day at the office. Looking at security camera feeds, pictures, a few more interviews. We don't have a solid lead. In fact, we don't have any real lead at the moment."

"Oh, geez. That's a bummer."

"It really is," he agreed. "What did you and Abby do?" Was I actually _glad_ he was interested in my day?

"We looked at blood spatter, the angle of depression, and how to calculate the distance, and where the killer would have most likely stood. She says tomorrow we'll be looking at the security camera feeds."

"Yeah, hopefully there's something we missed that you two will notice."

"Hopefully."

"How're you taking it? Didn't you know the girl?"

"Yeah. We were lab partners a few times. I'm assuming that when things like this happen, it doesn't always involve someone you know?"

"And it really sucks when it does."

"You can say that again," I sighed.

"Any time. So ah, same place as before, right?"

"Right. I'll pretty much always go there," I smiled.

"How about some coffee?" He asked me.

"I could go for coffee, sure." He pulled a right a few blocks down and pulled into a parking spot. "We aren't going through the drive thru?"

"Nah. It's warm in here, anyways."

Warm air hit me as he held the door open. "I don't doubt it."

"Welcome! What can I get for you two?"

"I'd like a White Chocolate Mocha. Uh…small."

"Okay, and for you sir?"

"Black coffee, please. Grande size."

"Alright, coming right up," the peppy barista started working with the machines.

"Didn't you stay in Italy for a while?"

"Just because I can say things in Italian doesn't mean I can remember what the sizes are called," I nudged him playfully.

"How often do you get coffee?"

"Not very. I'm more of a Pepsi person. At one point, I had five cans a day. I quit cold turkey, and I had headaches for a week and a half. They really mean it when they say caffeine is a drug."

He chuckled. "Our entire team runs on coffee. Gibbs almost always has coffee in his hands."

"I can't tell if that's awesome or really, really sad."

"It's probably a little of both," he smiled.

"That'll be eight dollars and fifty seven cents," the barista smiled (and it looked a tad forced).

Tim started to pull out his wallet and fished through its contents. "Oh, it's okay, I can pay for mine," and pulled a five dollar bill out of my pocket (I always kept ten dollars as a safety measure; whether it be emergency chocolate or emergency gasoline when I drove a car).

"No, please. Let me. Really," and he quickly handed the barista his ten dollar bill before I could object.

The girl handed us our drinks and we found a table to sit at. "That was very uncool of you. You've given me a ride home _twice_ now, and I can't even pay you back for coffee?"

He shrugged. "It was my offer. It's only right that I pay."

I gave him a little glare. "Yes, and I'm wasting your car's gas."

"Consider it a favor."

I let out a heavy breath. "Fine. But next time we hit up a coffee place, I'm paying."

"Deal," Tim grinned. "Aren't you going to drink it?"

"I will when it's cooled down. It's very hot."

"May I?" He gestured towards my drink.

"Sure," I pushed my drink over to him.

He took a sip from it, and replied, "It's not that hot," with a smug smile.

"Is too. My tongue is burnt." I ran my tongue against my teeth, feeling it sting.

"Whatever you say."

I took the lid off to let it cool faster, and I stared outside the window. "It looks as if a storm is coming. I don't want to keep you if there's going to be crappy weather to drive in." The clouds were a dark grey and threatened to rain down on our parade.

"I'm not the one with lots of homework."

"Blah. You are impossible." Frankly, he probably was.

"I try. Do you have homework? Seriously. It's getting a little late."

"Nothing I can't do in a half hour. Just a couple math problems, a schematic, and a chapter's worth of notes." I mentally sighed. It would be an easy night tonight, and it was very nice.

"Wait. So, you're working eight hour days with us."

"…Correct."

"Where do your classes come in in all of this?"

"I take online classes. With the exception of my science classes, that is. We don't have a lot of classes due to the program, though, at the moment. Once it's over, class will resume."

"That's pretty cool," he commented.

I rested my head on my hand. "I'd like to think so. I'm just going to have to get used to working again. Taking two quarters off for college really throws a person off. Where did you go to college?"

"MIT."

"That would explain it."

"…Explain what?" He seemed baffled.

"Nothing, Elf Lord."

He gave me a blank look. "Really? …_Really?_"

"Really. It _does_ roll nicely off the tongue," I smiled mischievously.

"Hmph. What kind of awkward nicknames do _you_ have?"

"Nothing too awkward. I was dubbed Joules for a while."

"Jules? That's not very awkward."

"No, Joules—as in a unit of energy. I was a bit of a physics and chemistry nerd in high school. By now, I've pretty much forgotten everything."

"I guess travelling does that to you."

"I suppose it does." Slowly, I found myself occasionally taking drinks of my coffee. I took a look at my cell phone's clock, and I figured we should get going. He agreed, and we left the shop. We turned the radio on and sang jumbled words and pretended that we knew the song. Or at least, I sang. Or pretended to. More or less, y'know. I couldn't let him know how horrible my singing skills were yet.

Soon, he pulled up to the curb across from the university. "Here you go," he said, looking across the street to the university.

"Thanks again, Tim."

"No problem. Can I see your cell phone?"

"Oh…sure." I handed him my cell phone, my baby.

"A Droid? Nice." He started toying around with it.

"Yeah. I try to keep up to date with certain technologies. I'd love to have a better laptop, but they're a bit pricey. At least my phone had a rebate."

He smirked a little bit. "I'm the same way." He handed my phone back to me. "I put my number in there. The rest of the team will make their mark sometime, too. If you need a ride or something, just call me."

"Thanks. Will do. Abby actually gave me her number. She told me to text her if I ever wanted to buy my coffin early… I think it was a joke. I think." _Two friends in one day. I'm pretty proud of myself._

"You know…I'm not too sure either, considering she sleeps in one."

"Oh, that's right…" I mumbled.

He looked confused. "Did she tell you?"

"No, Tony did," I remembered.

"Ah. I once slept over at her house, and I didn't know until the next day or so. It was pretty…awkward."

I laughed. "Very nice. I'll see you tomorrow, Tim."

"Okay," he smiled. "Bye."

I shut the door, and then hopped on my bike after looking both ways. I waved after getting my balance. I hoped he had waved back. In fact…

I _really_ hoped he waved back.

* * *

**So! How was that? Enjoyable?**

**I know you guys are out there. If you take the time out of your day to read this chapter, you can take thirty more seconds to review. Seriously! Tell me what you like or dislike, if Julia's a Mary Sue, if Tim was out of character-if _anyone_ is out of character; if you have ideas, if you think their friendship is going well or if it's too cheesy or unrealistic.**

**Your input is _always_ valued, and it certainly makes my days a lot brighter! :D**

**Have a good one.**

**Amehhh.**


	4. Awkward

**Hello again. Chemistry is absolutely horrible, so I'm deciding not to do it. Lovely way to end a day, is it not?**

**...Didn't think so.**

**I tried to incorporate some ideas/suggestions given to me without rewriting or adding five pages, so...here it is!**

* * *

I walked into the office the next day, after my (what I now was going to consider) usual frisking. I waved hello to Tim, and he waved back with a more than awkward smile.

When I questioned what was up, he responded: "Gibbs told me that you were interrogated. I'm not too sure how to really…take that."

"Oh. Well um. This _is_ awkward. I know there's no proof, but you have my word that I didn't do anything. I know that doesn't necessarily make it better…but I figure it's the only way for now."

"You don't seem like you did anything. But a lot of people aren't what they seem, and it's not fair to the rest of us."

"It's understandable. I guess if you were interrogated, I'd be having the same emotions. But that isn't the case. Talk to me when you feel more comfortable." I waved to him as I started to walk down to Abby's lab. "I'll see you later," I said, feeling more than bummed. He didn't respond. _Could he really think I'm capable of doing such a thing? _Apparently, he could, and it really, _really_ hurt.

* * *

Tina ended up calling me while I was working, although I asked her not to unless there was an emergency. There was another assault, in the middle of the day. This time, the person wasn't killed, but was going to be hospitalized for a few weeks. My breath froze as I listened to the news. I couldn't believe it was Joseph. It wasn't a murder, so I wasn't sure if Gibbs was going to add it as an addition to the case—but it _was_ attempted murder.

I called Gibbs up to let him know of the news as early as possible, and to give him an alibi: "I was working with Abby the entire day. She can confirm it as well as a lot of other people in NCIS, including _you_."

"Julia," he said, "why are you so insistent on this case, specifically?"

"I knew Clarissa, and I knew Joseph. Both were assaulted. Both had forensic science majors. I may not know them best friend-wise, or even friend-wise, but I want to be eliminated as a possible suspect. I haven't done anything wrong, and I won't do _anything_ wrong."

"If you care to come upstairs, we'll give you another interview—"

"Interrogation," I corrected, knowing he was probably softening the sound of it for my sake.

"Interrogation. If you really haven't done anything wrong, and your alibi can be confirmed, you'll be eliminated as a suspect. And Julia?"

"Yes?"

"If you _have_ done something wrong while working with NCIS, the consequences will _not_ be pretty."

The next day was significantly warmer, as the storm had passed us onto the next unknowing city. After rummaging through my closet for something cute to wear _for Tim_ (did I just say that? Let's pretend I didn't), I found something I hadn't worn in a while. It was a yellow summer dress and a white half jacket. After slowly piecing together my outfit, I realized my hair was virtually in the same position as yesterday, regardless of the shower I had taken the previous night. Shrugging, I threw my clothes on over my head, grabbed my key, and proceeded to exit my dorm.

As I walked outside to get my bicycle, I had realized why I didn't wear this outfit often. Sighing, I whipped out my phone and texted Tim. His response a minute later confirmed my question. It was a short amount of time before he pulled up across the street. Smiling and waving, I hit the crosswalk button. Immediately receiving a change of lights, I pranced my way over to his car. "Thank you so much, again. I need a ride home, too, if that's not too much." I felt bad, I really did.

"Like I keep saying, don't worry about it. It's my pleasure. Nice dress, by the way. I'm assuming that's why you couldn't ride your bike in?" Tim asked, glancing down at my (nicely shaven) legs, then looking back up to meet with my eyes.

"Something like that." Subconsciously, had the dress _really_ been my reason for not riding my bicycle? I smoothed my dress as I decided to shove that question into the deep depths of my mind. "So how are you on this fine morning? You aren't exactly acting awkward, like you did yesterday."

"A little tired, but good. We generally have a list of suspects, and your name was crossed off," he explained.

"Ah. Is that why you were so quick to responding in my need of transportation?"

"It plays a role. I'm sorry I judged you so quickly, but I've learned to view people with discrimination. With a lot of people, I try to be optimistic about them. When it comes to my work and suspects…it's difficult. Especially when you go out for coffee with a possible…well, murderer."

"I'm glad you know I'm not, now."

"You're probably mad, huh?" He asked me.

"A little mad. A little disappointed. But like I said, understandable. I'd feel the same way, I'm sure," I explained.

"So, I guess, now that that's all cleared up…how are you?"

"About the same as you are. I'm pretty happy, though. I declared forensic science to be my major," I said, smiling.

"So soon?" He pondered. "Has Abby gotten through to you _that_ much?"

"I just really enjoyed it. There's some kind of solace I got from it that I haven't gotten from any of my other jobs or classes. This major offers classes that I've been wanting to take or have been interested in. My other idea of what to do with my life was _fun_, but it required classes that I did _not_ want to take. Something about performing an instrument in front of a group sounds absolutely horrendous."

"I'm glad you made your decision, then."

I smiled. "Me too. I'm really looking forward to it. Wanna jam out to the radio?"

He turned up the volume. "Why not?"

By the end of the ride, I had asked, "It's still awkward, isn't it?"

"A little. Like Gibbs said, your name was cleared. I can only hope you're a horrible liar and incapable of doing something horrible like that. For what it's worth, you're not reprehensible."

Unfortunately, we had only gotten through one song before pulling up into the garage. We both exited the car, finding our way in the dimly lit garage to the door leading to an elevator.

"Glad to finally see you, McGee," Gibbs commented on his tardiness.

"Sorry boss, I was giving Julia a ride."

"Alright. New addition to the case. Another person was murdered, possibly by the same man. Richard Johnson, age twenty-five. We're interviewing people soon, so dig up as much information as you can on his last days. Phone records, credit cards, payments, _anything_."

My eyes widened a little bit. First Clarice, Joseph, and now Richard? The similarities were too uncanny to leave them unsaid. "Both of them. Clarice and Richard. They majored in forensic science at the University of Maryland. Richard was very talented. He paid for the program in which I'm participating in now, as well. Same for Clarice. I think it's by the same person." I looked at Gibbs, almost desperately, wanting and needing an answer to what just happened.

Gibbs looked at the team. "Well? Get on it, guys!" Immediately, Tim rushed to his desk and logged into his computer, Tony made phone calls, and Ziva searched phone records.

Assuming that I was one of the "guys," I decided to rush down to Abby's lab to get started on this new addition.

"If you know anything else," Gibbs said to me, "let me know."

"I will."

With a nod that I assumed meant something along the lines of "go join Abby," I pranced off to her lab.

"Well…somebody's style changed drastically overnight," she mentioned towards my clothes.

"I try," I smiled. "What have we got?"

"More blood spatters to calculate, and…a boot print! I haven't found a match for the boot yet, however, and it's a bet unsettling. Whoever did this is good. This guy is heinous."

"Agreed. He's going after college students with a forensic science major," I told her. "Or so it seems. The two people have been in my class at some point or another."

"If he _is_ targeting forensic science majors, how does he know they're majoring in that subject?" Abby asked. "And, how do you suppose someone like you or I could find out that information?"

"Log into the school's database—or hack into it, if we have to—and detect spyware, trojan horses, holes in the firewall and other defense systems," I explained after quickly thinking it out.

"Correct!" And with that, she began to type furiously on her keyboard, and then said, "We'll have to wait a little bit, now, for it to register any type of faltering defenses. Now," she cracked her knuckles, "let's find out what's with these boot prints."

* * *

**Well, there it is.**

**...Not much else to say, is there?**

**Do me a lovely favor and review? Constructive critique? Suggestions/ideas? Likes or dislikes (but preferably likes? :D)?**

**Have a great...night, I suppose it is, haha.**

**-Amehhh.**


	5. Trojan Horses and Dead Ends

**Bah. As my history teacher would say, "Spam has hit the fan." Pretty much sums up how I feel, haha.**

**However, Thousand Foot Krutch concert. Last Saturday? Key Arena? Anybody? D:**

**Freaking awesome concert though xD **

**Epic adventure was epic.**

**I suppose you wanna read the story though, huh? **

* * *

"I think I figured it out!" I exclaimed to Abby. "C'mere."

"What did you figure out? The boots?"

"Sadly, no. The gun that the bullets come from. The bullets all have the same impressions on them, leading to believe that they all came from the same gun. I did a little research, and…" I pointed to a picture on her computer, "It's from an M&P9 .9 millimeter revolver."

"Awesome. Get a list of who has bought them in the past year or so."

"Will do," I began typing.

Gibbs came in not a second later, and Abby told him the news all the while crediting me. It seemed as if he always walked in when we had a discovery or lead. After listening to her gush in what he didn't consider English, he informed us that he was going to the hospital to ask some questions to Joseph, the one who was shot and lived—and not to call him, for the slightest thing could set Joseph off.

* * *

A few beeps were heard coming from Abby's computer the next day. "I'm assuming that means you have something?" I asked her.

"You bet." With a few taps on the keys, she grabbed a pencil and piece of paper, and wrote down a string of numbers. "It was a trojan horse. It's looking at all recently declared majors. Quick, give this to Gibbs!"

"Give what to me, Abby?" He propped a famed Caf-Pow onto her desk.

"There is a trojan horse in the University of Maryland's database. It's looking at all recently declared majors. We traced it back to this," she handed him the IP address, "computer. It's at the library three blocks from here."

"Thanks, Abs. Julia, come with me. You know computers, right?"

"Right," I affirmed him.

"Hey, isn't she mine for the next month?" Abby pouted.

"She will be once she visits the library. If she's going to be a forensic scientist, she's got to know what happens on the spot," he reasoned with her.

"If you insist. Bye, Gibbs, Julia." She waved us off.

I put my lab coat on the hook hanging off the wall. "Bye, see you in a bit."

As we walked into the library, we immediately noticed that most of the computers were taken. Gibbs sauntered up to the librarian at the desk, and showed her his badge. "We're federal agents. If possible, we would like to have a list of computers and their IP addresses."

"We don't have a list, I'm afraid, but I believe I can look it up…I'm sorry, give me a moment," she gestured to the people waiting in line. Her eyebrows raised upward, raising wrinkles as she adjusted her eyes to peer through her glasses.

After a minute of adjusting her bifocals and typing in what looked at my angle to be gibberish, she seemed to have an "aha" moment. "The computer is right over there—it's number six."

"Thank you." Gibbs said.

"May we also speak to the person who runs this library? We need to take the computer out to run through its hard drive and web browser history," Tim explained.

Tony intervened: "And…would it be possible for you to also tell us who was on this computer at eleven-thirty in the morning on the fifth?"

"Let me see…" she bent down to rummage through file cabinets as Gibbs was trying to urge a nerd-looking person off of their Runescape account. I was sure he'd start using force any time now. Actually, Ziva gave one glare at the fear-stricken kid, and he was off running. The two carried the computer out to the truck after unplugging it. Tim ran after the pair. "Bobby Wilson," she said after a few minutes, showing the roster. Tony picked the clipboard up and looked down the list.

"Can you look him up for us? We're going to need his information," Tony said.

Her typing began once more. Eventually, she paused and wrote down his address on a slip of paper. "This is his address. He doesn't have a phone number." She fixed her glasses again.

"Can you tell us when he got his account with this library?"

"It says…the seventh of last month."

"And, can you tell me what books he's checked out in that amount of time?"

"He's checked out only one. _It_, by Stephen King."

"Alright, ma'am. Thank you for your time," and with that, Tony walked off. "That's one way to pass your time, I guess," he mumbled to himself, referring to the book.

I followed him, soon to arrive at an apartment building.

When we pulled up next to the sidewalk, we hadn't taken any notice of anything. Tony walked up to the front doors and attempted to open them. "They're locked!" He yelled.

"Really, Tony." Gibbs said, more of a statement than a question.

"Really, boss."

Gibbs smacked him over the head. Tony must have seen my surprise, and told me, "It's normal."

Laughing, I replied, "Oh…I see."

"Yeah. Hey," he was talking to someone on the sidewalk, "does anybody live here?"

The stranger laughed, "Pfft, no. Nobody has lived here in about a year."

"Crap. Thanks, anyways." Tony groaned.

"No problem."

"It looks like we're at a dead end, boss."

"Not quite. We're going to look at all the past tenants of this building within the last five years for those who have a similar name to 'Bobby Wilson.'"

* * *

**Horribly short chapter, my apologies. **

**But still, a chapter.**

**I'm about to pass out though, homies, haha.**

**As always, review and tell me your thoughts and/or suggestions ;) Or, if you have any fun ideas for Tim and Julia to stall the plotline a little bit, haha. Take that, plotline. Silly thing.**

**The reviews always make my head bigger, and just might make me update or write more. If I don't have homework, however...Hmm.**

**Adios, amigos.**

**-Amehhh**


	6. Movie Night

**HSPE next week. But I'm not a sophomore so I don't have to take it. :x **

**Lovely? I think so.**

**Crappy weather, crappy day, crappy amounts of homework. **

**How many people think that I can get my mom to let me skip?**

* * *

"Hey, Tim!" I caught up with him as he was entering after his lunch break. I_ really_ hoped he wasn't still freaked out about me as a past suspect.

"Hey, Julia. What's up?" Slightly awkward? Maybe? Maybe.

"As a thank you, you're coming with me after work. Well. I'll be coming with you since you're driving, but. You know what I mean." Did I _always_ sound so _stupid_ when talking to him? I _really _hope not.

"Um, okay, sure." He looked bemused at my statements.

"You don't have to if you don't want to…" _Did he not want to go with me? _I frowned. _Maybe he thought I was a psycho killer._

"No, I do want to go. I just wasn't expecting it," he smiled warmly.

"Awesome. I'll see you in a bit, then," I grinned. I walked to the elevator, and mentally pumped my fist. Was I for _real_? The first person I'm friends with is the first person in a while that I begin to like? I had to focus on my career, on my classes. Not some silly boy. But…a friendship couldn't hurt, could it? We were just friends. Right?

Right.

* * *

"So where am I turning?" Tim asked.

"Next block, take a left," I directed.

"Okay," he said as he veered off into the other lane.

"Just park somewhere on the street. Anywhere's fine." He did as I told him. "Okay, come on," I smiled. "It's kind of lame, and probably something that Tony might do, but a lot of people actually do this. It's on Fridays only, so, I'm sorry if you had something else planned."

He smiled. "Nothing was planned. So what are we doing?"

"Every Friday, an old—really old—movie is shown outside. Unless it rains three hours prior to the showing, in which case everybody shows up here," I pointed to the theatre. "Flash Gordon is being shown tonight," I smiled. "Free popcorn, too."

"Sounds like a fun time."

"It is. Sometimes I find the movies hard to pay attention to, but most times I bring a friend or two along to keep me company. I figured it was time for us to hang out again. Get over the awkwardness."

"Maybe in a couple days we could go for a coffee break."

"I'd like that," I grinned. Was I obvious? I was obvious. _Very_ obvious. "Hey!" I yelled as a car drove past in lightning speed. Not only that, a water from a puddle splashed venomously on my legs. "Shit."

"Oh, geez," he mumbled. "Do you want to go back to your dorm? You did say it wasn't too far from here, right?"

"Right. But, no, I don't want to go there," I sniffled. My legs were absolutely _wet_, thanks to that asshole.

"…Are you okay?" Maybe he asked that because killers don't cry. Which, I wasn't a killer. But I _was_ about to cry.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I grunted, not willing to let my eyes get _too _watery.

"You don't look like it. I'm sure your legs are very attractive when they're wet, but, I won't push it. I'll buy you some Pepsi," he smiled.

"How did you know I like Pepsi?" I smiled, wiping my eyes.

"I've seen Gibbs carry a Caf-Pow and a Pepsi down to the lab many times. I caught on eventually," he nudged me with his elbow.

"Oh," I let out a weak laugh. "Well…thank you."

"It's not a problem, really," he affirmed me. "C'mon, we don't want to be late now, do we?"

"Of course not," I said, as I tried to sneak my arm around his, "that wouldn't be very classy of us."

* * *

I hopped out of the car once we pulled up to the street after the movie. "Bye, Tim. I had a great time. I'll see you tomorrow."

After almost shutting the door, he added: "I'm not going away just yet," he said, turning off his car and unbuckling his seatbelt. "It's really dark out. I'll walk you to your dorm."

"Aw, are you sure?" I asked, feeling a little bad that I seemed so pathetic that I couldn't walk myself to my dorm. "I'm not _that_ helpless."

"I'm sure you aren't. Still, though."

"Ugh. You're horrible." Soon after, I kicked the ground.

"I try." As we walked onto campus, he made a few comments about the grounds and how nice they seemed to be, and how awfully lucky I was to have a dorm not so introverted into the college that it was almost impossible to get out.

"Okay, um…This is my dorm." I said, pointing at the whiteboard that said "Sexile Refuge" on it.

"Quaint. So, I actually have something for you." He began to reach into his pocket.

"Hey. Wasn't I the one who was trying to take you out tonight?" I asked, slightly angry that after my efforts of forcing popcorn down his throat he still had something for me.

"Yes, you were. But this was partially Gibbs' idea." He handed me a card, which almost looked identical to a room key at a hotel on one side. "He thought that if by any reason you needed to get into the building once you were done working with us, this would come in handy. It's a pass. The building is open to anyone who shows that card to a guard or swipes it on a door handle sensor.

"Oh, how sweet of him," I smiled. "Give him this for me, why don't you?" And I kissed him on the cheek.

He laughed. "I'll be sure to give that to him. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Correct. Bye, Tim."

"Bye, Julia."

Just when I shut the dorm door behind me, I squealed.

Tina, my room-mate, stared at me with a blank face. "What're you so happy about?"

* * *

**Short chapter. **

**And it fails.**

**And it's a filler.**

**But it seems better than Farewell to Arms right now..**

**I should get to reading that.**

**I hope you have a good day/night/afternoon, all.**

**-Amehhh.**


	7. Too Many Samoas

**Life is making me sad right about now xD**

**Only a few more months...until school is out..**

***sigh***

* * *

I grumbled as I walked into the lab the next day. Abby got one look at me and commented, "What's wrong with you today?" with one eyebrow raised.

"Too many girl scout cookies and American Dad at night after we parted," I groaned. I placed a bottle of Aleve in front of me onto the counter. "I feel like I'm going to puke. Or worse."

"Here," she scooted the Aleve away from me and in its place set down a Caf-Pow, "try some. It has therapeutic effects. If it doesn't help you feel better, it'll at least make you burp and relieve some pain in your stomach from the carbonation."

I gave her an unbelieving look.

"No, really. Try some!"

"Okay…" I slowly bent my head down to retrieve the straw. "I have to admit, that does taste good."

She gave me an "I-told-you-so" kind of look. "College kids," she rolled her eyes in a joking matter, "you have a lot to learn about the world."

"Apparently. So, what're we working on?"

"Sifting through videos. A shooting took place on the intersection of Second Avenue and John Street. Luckily enough, there was a video camera outside of the coffee shop across the street," she glanced toward the screen. "The shooting was expected to have taken place between one in the morning and two…" she typed on her keyboard (yet not as furiously as the past times I'd seen her type) and the screen jumped ahead to the approximate time. We fast forwarded the video, and sat around for a minute, our hopes slowly getting up.

"Pause it there!" I almost shouted. "Right…there." I pointed toward the screen. We had almost passed it.

"You're becoming a lot more observant," she commented.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" I half glared at her. No _wonder_ she almost passed it up.

"It's possible," she drank out of her Caf-Pow. "Now, let's zoom in…_Crap!_"

I slumped back down in my chair. We had a video of the guy. We could depict what gun he might be using, we could tell his stature and guess a rough height of the guy. But what we couldn't tell was his face. We had other angles to capture him at, but they all proved useless because he was wearing a mask. A stupid _mask_. "We could…" I tried to piece an idea together, "try to find out what kind of mask that is, who sells it, and who has bought it within the past…while. What kind of weave is it?"

Abby tried to zoom in more. "Um…let's see…" She leaned even closer to the screen.

Paling a little bit, I said slightly alarmed, "I gotta go." I stood up abruptly.

"What?"

I ran as fast as I could to the bathroom before I puked my guts out all over the hall. I made it just in time, and all I did was throw up and cry. Throwing up was absolutely _not_ my thing. You could say I hated it. And that I hadn't done it in seven years. I heard someone walked in, and I cringed.

"Hello?" I heard the accent ring from outside the stall.

"Ziva? Can you get me a glass of water?" I practically cried from the toilet.

"Of course, Julia." Huh. So she did know my name. I'd have to get to know her later.

She left the bathroom, and a minute later after I had thrown up again, knocked on the stall. "You're going to have to open it."

I lifted my head, flushed the toilet, and slid the lock to the right.

She handed the water to me down from where she was standing and knelt down to my height. "I know I am not your boss, but I'm going to advise that you go home."

"Agreed," I mumbled, after struggling to get words out of my vomit drenched mouth. I gurgled the water and spit it back into the toilet before drinking any.

"Here, let's help you to Ducky's to see what is wrong with you." Gingerly, she helped me up and walked me to him.

"Julia…you don't look to well. Take a seat," he gestured to a gurney.

Ziva spoke for me, and I didn't blame her. I was afraid to use anything in my throat. "She threw up. We are both wondering if she caught something or otherwise."

He took my temperature. "It's possible you may have caught something. You're ninety-nine point seven degrees. Go home, get some rest, stay hydrated, and curl up with a good book," Ducky smiled. "And I don't want to see you back before you're top-notch."

I gave him a pathetic smile. "Thanks," I managed to croak out.

"I'll give Jethro a call, and Ziva can gather your things from Abby's lab."

I was going to protest, but decided that I really, _really_ shouldn't stay. As I was about to ask who Jethro was, I heard Gibbs' voice on the telephone and made the connection. Abby came in with Ziva, and she ran up to give me a tender hug. "Get better, okay? I'll make sure that I'll have a Caf-Pow waiting here with your name on it for when you get back."

"Will do," I smiled, the nausea slowly passing. The Caf-Pow going down tasted a lot better than when it came back up. She put the Aleve back in my hand and reminded me not to take too much at a time.

"We should get going. We don't want everyone else to get infected with what you have," Ziva smiled.

"Bye, guys," I croaked out yet again, waving.

It really surprised me, though. Ziva, who could probably kill a fly from a mile away, had the patience of a seeing eye dog. She held onto my arm, probably to make sure I didn't fall over and hit my head on something. As we reached the elevator, I closed my eyes. I just hoped the awkward stop at the end of the ride wouldn't put my face back into a toilet to puke.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Tim saw us as we walked out. "You okay, Julia?"

"She's going home," Ziva answered for me when I didn't respond. "She is sick."

"I can…walk home," I muttered. "You guys are busy, and I'm the one that can't hold her Samoas*."

Tim looked almost relieved.

"What?" I gave out a shaky laugh. "Did you think I was going to say alcohol?"

"…No. I can give you a ride home. Boss?" He waited for a response.

"Go ahead. I'll call you if anything happens."

We started to walk to the elevator. "Trying to get out of paperwork, McGiggles?"

"No, Tony. Even though it is a drag, I don't have a problem doing it and getting it done, unlike _someone_," he acknowledged him.

"Hmph," Tony went back to researching video records on his computer.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride. I'm sorry you have to miss some work because of me."

"You threw up. Are we supposed to expect that you just stay at work?"

"You've worked there longer than I have. You tell me."

He gave me a look. "If you need anything, just text me."

"I know, I know…"

"Don't say it like that."

"Hey, cut me some slack, I feel a little pathetic. Puking, missing work, having to hitch rides…" I smiled a little bit to make it seem like I was joking.

"Just get better, okay?"

"I will, trust me," I said, "Besides, I'll have the time to catch up on some homework."

"Have you been slacking?"

"Me? _Slack?_"

He laughed. "Is Tina in there?"

"Um…no," I answered, unsure of why he'd want to know. _She's practically jailbait…_ "She has a class right now."

"I heard about how uncomfortable you were with puking."

_Damn you, Ziva._

"Do you need me to stay?"

"I don't think so. My best friend is just a few dorms over. She knows I can't handle vomit," I laughed, "She'll hold my hair. And if she doesn't, our entire friendship has been a lie."

"You might want to take a shower, then…" He picked up a few strands of my chestnut hair, "because nobody held it the last time."

"Oh…that's gross. I'm sorry. I probably stunk up your car."

"Probably not. I'll just roll down the windows a bit. Rest up." I had a feeling he had lied about me not stinking up his car.

"Tim," I laughed, "I'll be _fine_. I already feel a lot less nauseous."

"Okay, okay. I'd do the same for any other friend."

_Damn. Just friends… But, still, a friend. _"Thanks," I smiled as I opened the door.

* * *

**Voila.**

**I've been lazy. I know. I know. **

**So. The little asterik by the Samoa thing? Yeah, if you don't live in a Girl Scout Cookie area, they are the most godly of any cookies.**

**Same story...Review, please?**

**Because they make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the insides.**

**Have a good one ;)**

**-Amehhh**


	8. Eat Pray Love

**Well...this was a long wait, even for me. But that's the price you pay when people you haven't seen in ten years decide to show up, eh? :D**

**Long night this is...note to self: Try to do _some_ homework next time this happens.**

**Read and review, my lovelies!**

* * *

I sat under the covers watching I Love Lucy with a glass of milk and Trefoils* at my side. I threw up again later the previous night, and I'd decided that it would be in everyone's best interest if I missed another day instead of puking all over everyone. Once again now, Lucy made a blunder and now Ricky was paying for it. Oh, the classics. I miss the good comedy.

The door abruptly had a knock coming from it. I groaned—If Tina had lost her key _again…_I propped myself out of bed, sore as can be, and opened the door about to lecture Tina. To my surprise, it was Tim. "Oh, hey. Come on in," I opened the door wider.

"It's okay," he said.

"No, it's not. Unless you're afraid to catch my virus?" I prompted him, hoping it would urge him to come inside.

"I actually brought you some soup," Tim gestured to the thermos in his hand.

"Campbell's Chicken Noodle?"

He mumbled, "Yeah," slightly incoherently and nodded his head.

"How thoughtful," I immediately grabbed the thermos from him and untwisted the top so I could shove it down my stinging throat. "Come in, seriously. Tina's not here."

"Well…okay."

"Unless you have somewhere to be?" I casually asked him. Why did he always seem to not want to be in the same general area with me until I urged him?

"No, it's just, y'know. You, me, together in a _college_ dorm?"

Oh, so _that's_ what he's getting at."You think somebody's going to think we're," I gasped, "doing the dirty? Why, I never!" I playfully swatted him. "Tim McGee, to ever think of such a thing," I shook my head in false shame.

He seemed slightly unsure of what to say.

"Just come inside," I giggled.

He came into my humble abode and said that he liked it. "I Love Lucy?" He asked while looking at the television, "Really?"

"Really. You know, it's really fun to have people who don't speak English watch this. It certainly gave me a kick."

"What?" He asked with a goofy smile, disbelieving me.

"I'm not lying. They think I'm crazy for liking this show until I explain to them what's actually going on," I laughed. "I did it in Germany, to Barbra, and in France to Quentin. Now _that's_ funny." I plopped back down on my bed, and after noticing he was still standing, I said, "If you're awkward sitting with me in a bed, you can hang in Tina's, if you'd like."

"I'll go for the desk chair."

"Do anything to that chair and I will personally go out of my way to get back at you." When he shot me a perplexed look, I explained to him that I actually had gotten the chair in London, despite its American look.

"So tell me about your travels. You can't just bring it up once at coffee and never bring it up again."

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. I dare you to tell me about things on your travels you haven't told many people about," he smugly smiled.

"Only if you tell me two things not a lot of people know about you."

His smile fell. "Fair enough."

"That's what I thought." I proceeded to tell him about London—how funny the people sounded in comparison to us, and how awkward I sounded in comparison to them. How I've seen Big Ben, and I've been to museums and actually drove in their cars—on the right hand side, and how I now spell "color" as "colour," or "behavior" as "behaviour."

In Italy, I told him about my _Eat Pray Love_ adventure. I gained about ten pounds and had to buy new clothes because some of my other ones didn't fit. The food was great, and everything about my strict picky diet was thrown out the window. When I came back, it was even worse (at least Italy used real meat…). I didn't and still don't speak Italian very well, but I've made it a personal goal of mine to learn more of it, I told him.

In Germany, I visited the old concentration camps—and visited the museums. I read _Mein Kampf_ and _The Diary of Anne Frank_ while over there, and tried to incorporate the history of World War Two into my being. Unfortunately, the knowledge left me when I went to France for a little romance.

I spent a lot of my time in Paris. I showed him pictures of me at the Eiffel Tower, at the Opera Garnier—which I also explained to him was where the Phantom of the Opera's Opera Populaire was based upon, and how Charles Garnier was incorporated into Phantom, a fiction of the fiction Phantom of the Opera and how I'd absolutely have to lend to him sometime—and even underneath the Opera Garnier. The rest of my time, I told him, was spent in the countryside, taking in wonderful amounts of fresh air.

When I was finally finished, I spent some time coughing my lungs out, it seemed like.

"Wow," he said, "You've really had some adventures. You must have grown a lot, going from America to such different places."

"I really did, and it did change me. But…" I stopped to find my words, "while I find myself more mature in many ways, I'm still me. I'm still twenty six, I'm still a college kid, just trying to find out who she really is."

"And who are you, exactly?"

"Julia Anne Abrahams. I'm splendidly me. I found myself actually being a lot more confident. I don't need society to put me down as much as I think it does."

"How so?" Now he seemed intrigued. As much as I thought it was a little selfish to keep talking about myself, it was a nice change of pace.

"There's a reason for the hype, I think. My favorite color is pink, my favorite band is U2, I think Baby isn't such a half bad song, and hermit crabs are wonderful pets. I even have one over there," I pointed to the plastic cage. "His name is Thoreau." He seemed amused by my statements. I wasn't going to let him get off that easily though. "Now it's your turn. What two things have you not told many people?"

"There's only two things I can really think of," he scratched the back of his head, and looked like he didn't want to share them.

"So…spill the beans," I smiled at him. "Rip that Band-Aid off."

"In order to impress a girl a while back, I got a "mom" tattoo."

I'm not too entirely sure how hard I laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I stuttered. "But _you_? A _tattoo_? _Where_?"

"That," he pointed at me, "wasn't part of the deal," with another smug smile.

"And the other thing?" I shoved a Trefoil in my mouth.

"I write stories. I've written a few, actually."

"Wow, nice. I wish I had that ability. I can't keep a plot going for my life," I laughed. "I'd like to read them sometime, if you don't mind."

"Sure," he smiled, "I don't think that'll be a problem."

I glanced at the time. "Oh geez, I've held you here for a while, haven't I?"

"I don't mind," he simply said.

I tried to stifle my grin. I really hoped it worked, or else I'd look like an idiot. "I should let you go. Tina's going to come back anyways, and we don't exactly want a rumor, do we?"

"It would be pleasant to not have one go around. Text me later if you're going in tomorrow, we'll carpool like usual."

"Okay, great, thanks." I handed him back his thermos. "You sure do know how to heat it up to the perfect temperature." I crawled out of bed to open the door for him. My legs got a fresh chill, but it was well welcomed. "I'll see you around."

"Right," he waved, "Bye."

"And Tim?" He stopped for a second. "It means a lot to me that you came over," I smiled. _Because nobody else really would._

"It's fun hanging out with you. Hey, eat some more Trefoils."

I grinned as I shut the door behind him. As I walked back to my bed, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes had bags, my lips were chapped, I had broken out on my forehead (and unsightly thing when I get sick), my hair was messy and dirty, and my clothes were wrinkly and hadn't been washed in a few days, thanks to homework. I looked like utter _crap_, and he still made me feel pretty.

* * *

***Trefoils are the second best Girl Scout Cookies ever.**

**And as for the Hermit Crab Thoreau thing...In our english class, we were forced to read a part of Walden, by Henry Thoreau. He was like the hippie/hobo of the 1800s. He lived in a little solitary, alone in the woods for something like 2 years, 2 months and 2 weeks. So...he became a hermit. And that was my lame attempt at a joke-like thing.**

**For the record, though, if somebody wants to marry me and take me to the Opera Garnier as our honeymoon...I'd love you forever.**

**I'd also love you forever if you'd review ;)**

**Don't stay up too late! (Like I do...)**

**-Amehhh.**


	9. And So The Plot Thickens

**Geez, it's almost like I always update on Sundays, eh? Oh well, it's Spring Break! :D**

**Finally, the plot emerges! You are all lovely people for sticking around with me this long.**

**Enjoy, read, and review! **

* * *

It had been two weeks since I began working with Abby, and thankfully the frisking had stopped thanks to the ID card. There had been undercover operations, there had been computer hacking and analyzing of blood spatter three times over, yet nothing was found. There had been tire prints on the road, but they had ended up being bald tires, so we only had a portion of the pattern. Two more people since have been killed. One had a minor in forensic science, and the other with a major in criminal justice. It was a stroke of luck, really, for the killer. Two birds with one stone—the two had been walking together the night they had died. However, it was as if the person who had killed the two students was a ghost.

"It seems as if the killer is becoming more personal with the victims. If you notice how far in the bullet goes in this body, and then the next few, it's deeper. I know that the victims have different body types and statures, but why would the bullet go in so much deeper?"

"I don't know. If we had the actual boot, I think things would be so much easier. I just want to know why we haven't been able to match it up with any other boot," I sighed. "Maybe he made incisions to the soles, and made his own design?"

"No kidding. Maybe…I don't know how likely it is, though. I can run it again in a bit. We're virtually at a dead end. Or maybe not…" Abby typed on her computer. On the screen was a list of recently declared majors that were crime related. "Hmm."

"What are you hmm-ing about?" I asked.

"Have you declared a major yet?"

"Yeah, about two weeks ago. Why?"

She immediately pressed the speaker button on the telephone. "Gibbs. Get down here."

"For what, Abs?"

"I have some really bad news." With that, she lifted her finger from the button.

I glanced at her. "Care to explain?"

She gave me a distressed look. "You can wait a minute, because you're _not_ going to like what I just found."

I looked over at the list of declared majors, and paled a little bit. Shit. _Shit._

"You looked, didn't you?" Abby frowned.

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

"What is it, Abs?" Gibbs came in, gruff as usual.

"The proximity of the range of the shooter has been getting closer. A lot closer. Say, about two hundred feet. He's getting up front and personal, almost, with his victims. In fact, even the killings are getting closer together. But that's not the bad news…"

"Well?" He asked, almost frustrated.

"If we don't catch him the next time he kills someone…Julia's next," she looked over to the screen.

I followed Gibbs from the lab, to the elevator, and as he was walking to his desk; I almost had to run. As of now, this case was past full speed ahead. We need to figure out who this guy is as soon as possible." He sent a mini glare out to his team. "Julia, you're going to be supervised by an agent until you safely and securely reach your dorm every night."

"Why will we need to protect Julia?" Ziva asked, confused. "She is just Abby's assistant. She is not an agent."

"She may not be an agent," Gibbs grunted, "but she is a target."

The team fell silent.

I could feel their eyes burning holes into my body. The pain and almost slight embarrassment was still easier than having a bullet go through my flesh, I imagined. _Just pretend they're in their underwear, right?_

Gibbs stared at his team. "Get _started_!" he barked. He walked over to me and started to walk me back to the elevator. In a hushed voice, he said, "I know you're scared, but we _will_ protect you. We will take extra precautionary measures and arrange for you to stay at an agent's house. Regardless of you being Abby's assistant, you are still a member of this team and will be treated as such. Although a campus is a safe place with people and security guards roaming, Clarice was still shot right off of campus, and Joseph? Not too far away either. It's not safe for you. We've already had too many people go in this case _alone_. _You_ will not be one of them. I guarantee it." With that, he ushered me into the elevator, and the doors shut.

As the elevator started to fall down the floors, I got the shakes and almost threw up right then and there.

Abby got a good look at my not-so-good-looking face. She grimaced. "That's the verdict, huh? You should sit down. You can go in my office."

"No, I…I can't. I need to work." _I wanted to live, didn't I?_

"Just sit down for a moment and process it. _Please_?"

I just looked at her with my mouth hanging partially open. My stomach was in knots, constantly untying and tying itself into an even more complicated and tangled system. "I…" Were there really any words to describe what I was feeling? That I was on a hit list of some demented man? Time to break out the dictionary.

I had been mugged in Germany, with only fists to threaten me, I had seen multiple members of the mob in Italy. I had experienced earthquakes, and I had seen death in France. In London, I saw a victim of heart failure with my own eyes. But never once had my life been in the equation.

She cleared her throat. "Julia, as your mentor and knowledgeable forensic scientist, I demand you sit down in my office," she put on a tough, frown-like face.

It might have cheered me up had I hadn't have tons of thoughts running through my head.

"Go, go." She gently pushed me toward her office, and I landed on her spinning chair. I sat back, and attempted to process what had just happened.

When I had tried to get up an hour later to try to do _something_ useful, she had pushed me back down into the chair. She then said, "When I'm really troubled, I go to Ducky. You could always talk to him. Even if he doesn't give you any advice, something about him is just really nice."

My mouth was very dry. "Maybe I'll go do that," I croaked.

I left the room and entered the autopsy room.

"Oh, hello, Julia," he smiled, "what brings you here?"

"Abby said this is the place she goes to when she's troubled about something. So I decided to try it out."

Ducky, who was currently filing an autopsy report, gave me a kind yet worried look. "What's the matter?"

I'm sure it came in a jumbled mess and sounded a little something like this: "''mnextandIdon'tknowwhattodo."

"That's a very bad predicament, I agree. It is a fact that while working for NCIS, I've been put in many dangerous positions, and while each time it's very scary, it affects a person a little less. It comes with the job description, I bet," he smiled. "But, whoever this man is, I know fully in my heart that you can and will catch him."

I had to smile back at him. Abby was right. While fully telling the absolutely scary truth, he somehow made it seem a lot less hazardous than it really was. I was still scared shitless, of course. "Thanks, Ducky. I think that really helped. At least until it's dark out," I put effort into a small joke about my situation.

He laughed a little bit.

Palmer came in through a side door and groaned. "I _hate _cleaning medical supplies. Hey, Julia."

"Palmer," I acknowledged him with a small wave.

"Well," Ducky began, "that's why when you have a job like I do, you get an assistant."

I laughed. "Isn't that the truth. I should probably start saving my life now. I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Julia. Now, Palmer…" he began as I left the premises.

* * *

**Oh snap.**

**Well, that's all for now, folks. Surprisingly, I don't have TOO much homework...considering my teachers probably spawn from Satan himself.**

**...Just saying. ...Yeah.**

**Well, I hope you liked it as much as I had fun to write it.**

**Review, darlings?**

**Spend the rest of your day going outside! :D**

**-Amehhh**


	10. Pepsi Doesn't Cut It In The Morning

**Ugh...morning, everyone. **

**Today is the end of spring break...and I still have an entire practice AP Chemistry test...multiple choice, free-write and all...**

**Well, I think it's safe to say I'm going to procrastinate for another few hours.**

**If any of you had spring break this week too, I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. :D**

**Anyways, carry on to the story!**

* * *

I gave him a little wave and began to walk to the elevator. **  
**

Tony was driving me to my dorm today. Tim, because I was sick a few days ago, had a little bit of extra work to do. He laid the rules down for me, to insure my best safety. "Do not go off the campus without one of our supervision. Don't go out of your dormitory at night…buddy system at all times, with the exception of the NCIS _building."_

"I know," I slightly groaned.

"Hey," he said as he pulled into a parking space. He gave me a sympathetic smile. "I know this sounds like you're being treated like a child, but I'm sure you know that if you follow these, you're going to be much safer."

"I know that. Honestly…it just _sucks." I tried to put on a tougher mask. "I'm not going to un-declare my major. It's not my problem that somebody has a problem with that."_

He laughed, "That's more like it." Suddenly putting on a serious face after opening the door for me, he said, "I know you're scared, Julia, but we will catch this guy. You're in good hands. We're not going to let anything happen to you."

We walked in silent seriousness to my dorm, which I was supposed to be escorted to and from every day. When we reached the door, I told him, "Thanks for all your efforts. They're not going to be wasted."

"I know they won't," he stated. "Bye, Julia. See you tomorrow." We waved to each other. He didn't exactly seem like his cheerful, boisterous self. It was possible that me being threatened and on the team upset him. Regardless of how worried I was, and how close I was to shaking with fear, I was happier than anything, because of how accepted I was in their family.

I closed the door behind me, and noticed I was alone, and in solitude. Tina was probably at the nearest Starbucks with people closer to her age. I shut the window, and closed the curtains. My heart started to quicken. What if I was all alone when I died? Would it hurt? Would anyone hear my scream? Quickly, I threw on my pajamas and covered myself under blankets on my bed. My feet started to tingle, and I started to shiver. I forced myself to shut my eyes, even though it was only eight.

Without taking my increasing breaths into consideration, I slowly found myself falling asleep.

* * *

When I woke up, I found it hard to breathe. I forced myself out of bed, then almost fell back in. Tina was still in bed, and that meant the shower was free. After sneaking into the bathroom and shutting the door, I turned the water on and prayed that she wouldn't wake up. I knew I was a mess, but that didn't mean anybody had to see it.

I had started my day off normally, so who was to say that today wasn't normal. It was entirely possible the whole thing had been a crazy dream, or a weird misunderstanding. Clarice wasn't a misunderstanding, and neither were the others. This wasn't just a happenstance, I decided, it was life, and it was about to get scarier, I thought.

Judaism, Christianity, and Catholicism were all religions I had seen and studied once upon a time in different countries. Not once had I faltered in my respect for the religion and people devoted to them, but every day I had experienced a lack of faith, until today. I needed something to believe in dearly. I needed somebody to listen to my hopes and dreams and fears without judgment (because no matter what anybody said, they'd be judging me deep down inside—I've done the same thing, and who hasn't?).

My knees were not on the ground, my hands weren't clasped together, and my eyes weren't closed. I wasn't muttering a short prayer, I didn't make the cross on my chest. I just hoped and hoped that somebody would hear my thoughts and make sure I didn't die sometime in the near future.

Tina, when I got out of the shower and bathroom, was still face down on her pillow, snoring. I pit of jealousy formed in my stomach as I watched her. She had no clue, no worries, no fears. All she had to focus on was having a good time and passing her classes.

I looked at the clock. There was still a few minutes left before somebody should be picking me up. I threw on some clothes, attempted to put make up on to cover my distraught face, and laid down on my bed. My eyes had huge circles beneath them—I had had a rough night. I wouldn't be surprised if I had woken up five times in the few hours I slept. Thoughts ran through my head as I laid there. Going back to sleep, I figured, wouldn't be so bad, no matter how restless it would be.

A knock was heard from the door, and I saw Tina growl. After forcing a smile on my face, I opened the door. Gibbs was standing there. "Morning, Julia. I know the smile's fake."

My face turned into a frown. "Yeah. Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't say sorry," he said, "It's the sign of weakness."

I smiled again—a real one, this time. "So, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"NCIS deals with petty officers, right..?"

"Right."

"Well, how did you get caught up in this case? I don't know…I mean. I haven't known any of the victims to be petty officers."

"There was one murder before the one you were interrogated about," he explained.

"Oh…who was it?"

"His name was Thomas Jensen. He was in the navy before going to college. He majored in forensic science. After he graduated, he was shot."

* * *

Gibbs and I walked together into the office with a cup of coffee in our hands. "I'll let you know if we had any leads," he told me.

"Alright, thanks. I'll be in the lab. But you probably knew that."

He nodded to me, and I was off with a deep, nervous breath, at least, until Tim stopped me. "Turning into a Gibbs, Julia?" He smiled.

"Well…Pepsi doesn't really cut it this early in the morning."

He glanced at his clock. "It's not _that early."_

"If this was a free day where my life wasn't possibly at stake," I added with a short, hollow laugh, "I'd be getting up at one or two."

He gave me a stare. "Really? I have to get up at ten at the latest."

"I get up at eleven at the earliest. In some circumstances, I'm willing to make an exception," I gave him a smile. _Hint, hint. "I'll see you around, Tim."_

Tim smiled back, "Alright, bye."

* * *

**Hmm...**

**Idunno. It's so early in the morning I can't think of anything to say...even though it's only like...ten.**

**I slept for eleven hours, what am I so tired about? xD**

**Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!**

**Read and review you absolutely lovely people! :)**

**-Amehhh**


	11. Blacklighting the Car

**Hello again...barely a day early, yet still a day early xD At least, it is over here.**

**Guess who doesn't have the AP Chemistry practice test?**

**Yeah, that's right, me.**

**That's probably why it was updated earlier. Maybe, maybe not. Who knows?**

**Anyways, storytime!**

* * *

It turned out that working on the case that I might be a victim on didn't relax me. It didn't make me feel safer, and it certainly didn't make me more comfortable with the thought that I might pass on. Abby and I were analyzing the list of those who had ordered the smoking gun online. We had ruled out people outside of the state, and five people were left.

She handed me the list, and I started to walk to the elevator again. I had to admit, I probably got more exercise here than on the campus. When the elevator opened, Tim was standing there. "Hey, I have information for you," I said.

"So do I."

"Walk with me, talk with me?" I pressed the second floor button. "What've you got?"

"We've got a witness."

"I see. Are you going to interrogate him?"

"No, Gibbs is. Actually, we found the car that the murderer shot from. The license plate matched the license plate for the video. We have pictures of the finger prints and the inside, and we need Abby and you to check the entire vehicle out." He handed me the pictures. "The car is in the basement."

"Okay, sweet. Thanks. Here," I handed them the list of people and their information, "is the list of people who ordered the murder weapon."

"We'll be right on it," Tim said as he left the elevator.

"As will we," I replied as I pressed the basement button.

Abby was already down in her gear, and she pointed me toward the required jumpsuit and goggles. I put the outfit on and popped the trunk. I was in charge of taking loads of pictures, she told me. So, I naturally went toward the camera and began to take pictures of what was in the trunk—which wasn't much. It felt as if it had been absolutely forever before Abby and I heard footsteps.

"Boss wanted me to come down here. Abby," as he said her name she rolled out from under the car, "we need you to go into the files of the Department of Licensing to look for anything—or anyone—registered with the license plate number."

She let out a wave of air. "Alright. Let me know if you find anything else." She set the wrench she held in his hand. As he gave a bemused expression, she explained that the underside had been scratched and dented. "He probably frequently takes a route with a speed bump," she told him.

"Ah." He put on a jumpsuit and goggles and began working with the car. After a minute or so of intense working (or awkward silence), he asked, "How are you taking all of this?"

"All of what?" I feigned confusion.

He gave a sympathetic smile. "You can stop faking, you know. You don't have to pretend like you're alright all the time."

"Oh, no, really, I'm just fine." I tried to brush off his (completely right) accusation. "Can you hand me the blacklight?" He put the handheld blacklight into my hand, and I reached over to turn off the lights. After opening the back door, I mentally gagged. "That better not be what I think it is," I said with a twinge of disgust as the blacklight showed not one, not two, but _multiple_ spots of possible excretion. I reached over to grab a swab and swiftly swiped the DNA off of the seat. "God, that is _so_ gross."

"What is?" He peeked in over my shoulder and grimaced.

I sighed. I was slowly realizing that I wasn't cut out for handling this series of events on my own.

I sat my specimen on the table and resumed looking for more evidence apart from the…I didn't even want to think about what it might have been. Hey, Tim?" I asked.

"Yes?"

"Have you ever been…threatened like this?" I yawned a little bit. Yesterday wasn't a very good sleep at all either…

He took a moment to respond. "I've been shot at a couple times. It's difficult to process." I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "It took a _really_ long time to really get back to normal. But after a while, you realize that you have to move on. People are out to get you in one way or another. Sure, some ways are much more pleasant…but it leads to acceptance. I'm not going to let it go, though," Tim said. "It's okay to be afraid. To…y'know. Let your feelings come through."

"I _do_ let them come through," I snapped. "I'm _fine_."

"I might be ruining everything, but…" he took a deep breath, "No, you're not."

"Then what do you think I am?" I haughtily asked him. "Because it surprises me that you would know how I feel. In fact, not a lot of people really do."

I could imagine myself calling my mother on the telephone. '_Oh, yeah, hi mum. See, the funniest thing happened to me lately…as it turns out, I'm on the hit list of a psycho murderer. He's already killed a few people, and I'm virtually next. Abby and I—oh, she's the forensic scientist—have been working really hard, and so has our team, but every time we get close to figuring out who he is, he seems to throw us another curveball. I'm pretty scared, mum. Mum? Oh, mum, please don't cry—I'm not going to die…I think. And even if I do, I've lived a pretty good life, wouldn't you say? It's okay, don't cry, I'm not going to die just yet…' _Yes…that would turn out well.

"I think that you are just as afraid and frightened as anyone would be. It's interrupting your sleeping habits, and that isn't good…at all."

I fought off the urge to say, "You think?"

"I think that you are afraid to let anybody know what's going on with you because you don't want to put anyone else into danger and you don't want to let anybody see your weak side. And…I think that if you would show all of your personality that it would shine past any of ours. You have every reason to be frightened, but there's no reason to keep hiding that emotion…and you have to admit to yourself that we are not going to let anything happen to you, regardless of what you're feeling." Tim explained.

"I don't know what I'm feeling," I spoke without thinking. I could feel tears brimming at my eyes, and I knew it was true. Sure, I was afraid, frightened of death. But I was nowhere near accepting those feelings. I knew I would be kept safe, just like everybody kept telling me, but I still felt so unprotected. My mouth felt suddenly dry and I opened and closed it a few times, expecting to say something.

Tim walked over to me, pulled his arms around me, and murmured near my ear, "It's going to be okay."

Abby came back after we had parted and gathered more pieces of evidence from the car (which included more pictures, more fingerprints, and more DNA samples). She had already sent the list of multiple tickets—and multiple fake IDs—to Tony, and was now ordering Tim to go back and work with the computers.

He left and I groaned. "Fake IDs? Are you serious?" Knowing this piece of information wasn't helping my stomach. I was surprised I wasn't throwing up again.

"Six, in fact. However, there's one consistency. Does Bobby Wilson ring a bell? He's on one of the IDs. Along with Anthony Black, Richard Stevens and others. They all have the same picture. I'm running it on my computer now. A match hasn't been found just yet. But I am fully confident in my computer's abilities! In fact, I'm sure it'll have a match by now." She smiled at me and pranced off to her computer.

I followed her, not really believing that everything would be alright.

* * *

**Well, that was kinda short. ...Oh well. **

**So I think I'm going to start working on a Harry Potter fanfiction after this...just a heads up, haha. (DracoxOC, anyone?)**

**Who thinks we can get to 40 reviews? o:**

**Yes, no, maybe so?**

**Let's go for yes. :D**

**Well, I'm kinda tired xD Night, all!**

**-Amehhh**


	12. Tim's Apartment

**I really liked this chapter. So I thought I'd give it to you guys a couple days early. :D**

**It kindof cheered me up, actually. Boyfriend and I are officially no more. D':**

**...Oh well. Meh, kinda bummed.**

**But hey, I have 3 AP tests to look forward to! Isn't that great? Yeah, you're right, it really isn't.**

**Anyways, on with the story!**

* * *

It was the end of the day, and everyone on the team worked two hours overtime. I was on the edge of either passing out or exploding at everyone, and I had to bite my tongue every time somebody said something that displeased me. I drank some of Abby's Caf-Pow when she wasn't looking, and when she turned around, I was already at the computer.

My fingers furiously typed, making mistakes here and there, but I still got to my destination. "Got it!" I started to explain. "The name he was born with," (I had to go into international databases to find it), "is Ludvig Borovsky. He changed his name when he was ten to Anthony Black. He moved to South Carolina for a portion of his life…and I guess he's living up here now. There's no documentation of an address or moving files. He went to MIT…which would explain the trojan horse in the database and how he's been able to get around security on the computers."

"Let's give this to Gibbs and you can call it a night. You look like you're about to drop de—pass out." She gave me a crooked smile and said, "Sorry."

"It's fine," I grunted. Regardless that it was a slip of the tongue…it wasn't a figure of speech I was particularly fond of at the moment. "I'll go run the information to Gibbs."

"Okay," she told me, returning back to her computers.

It took me only a minute or two to reach the floor the team was on. Gibbs wasn't at his desk, so I put the paper on Tony's desk, as he was the senior field agent (not that he'd let me forget any time soon). "Ludvig Borovsky," I began to explain all that I had previously explained to Abby.

"This is great, Julia. We'll be on this. You should go home, you look really tired."

"I think I'm going to. I'll see you tomorrow. Night, Tony."

"Night, Julia." He waved at me.

Gibbs began walking down the stairs, from the Director's office, I assumed. "You're going with Tim tonight. You'll gather your things from your dorm room and start staying with him. Tim," he looked at him, "tell her about rule number twelve."

"Right, boss." He looked at me, "Well, shall we go?"

"Um, yeah," I said. I had known that I would be staying at an agent's place, but I never expected it to come so soon. "Right." We had walked to his car in near silence, either from being so tired or just because none of us had found something to talk about. When we were halfway to the college, I looked at him and asked, "What _is_ rule number twelve?"

He began to explain: "Gibbs has a list of rules that he has us follow. Rule number twelve is 'never date a co-worker.'"

"Oh. Awkward." _Damn._ "Well, I suppose it makes sense," I said as we pulled into a parking spot. As I got out, the fresh air hit me, and I felt rejuvenated. I started to prance off to my dorm before realizing that I wasn't supposed to be out without him. Reluctantly, I drew back to his area and began walking with him. "We wanna go this way," I said with a little laugh before pulling his arm towards where I was walking.

"Right," he mumbled (with a hint of embarrassment?).

"So…how long should I pack for? Assuming I'll be staying until the case is cracked."

"I really have no idea. I'd say pack for a few days, and if we have to come back for more clothes or go downstairs to the washing machine, then so be it."

"Alright, cool," I said as I managed to get my key stuck in the key hole. "Dumb key." I finally managed to pull it out and open the door. Tina wasn't in, and I took that as a good sign that I could sneak in and back out without a trace. Well, except for leaving a note on the whiteboard sign on our door. I walked in and noticed he wasn't coming. "You can come in you know. It _is_ allowed," I laughed. "Nobody's gonna judge. Except for Tina. Maybe."

He came inside and peered around as if he had never been inside before. "Could you hand me that bag on Tina's bed?" He handed me the bag, and I threw open my closest before packing some shirts and pants into it.

The door opened and closed to reveal Tina. "Hey…guys…" She paused for a minute. "You don't have to pack, Julia…if you want me to leave to the common room for an hour or two, I will."

Tim gave a deer-in-the-headlights look toward me and my mouth found itself to be slightly agape. "No, Tina—we aren't—what?"

"You sure? Cause to me, it looks like you're packing to stay for the night…I can go to Lucy's room if you want." Tina gave us a look as if she were expecting more to the story.

"Tina. We aren't going to…" _Okay. Be mature._ "Do it." _Yeah, _real_ mature._

"Then why are you packing?" She asked, opening our mini fridge, and pulling some Ben and Jerry's out of the freezer compartment.

"I'm staying at his…" To think about it, I didn't really know where he lived.

"Apartment," Tim helped me out. "She's staying with me for a couple of days or so."

"Ah," she shoved a spoonful in her mouth. "Yeah, it would be annoying having to sleep over and someone's dorm for that amount of time. Good choice, thanks for thinking of me."

At this point, I couldn't tell if she was joking. "Er…yeah." My eyebrows furrowed and I threw my iPod in my bag. I grabbed another bag and stuffed it with textbooks and other items I couldn't possibly live without (namely my cell phone charger for starters). "Okay, I think I'm ready."

"Alright, let's head off." With a little hesitation he added, "Bye, Tina."

"Bye guys," she managed to get out with a spoon sticking out of her mouth.

"Don't drink my Pepsi," I smiled. "I'll know if you do. Bye." I took one last look at my dorm as if I wasn't going to see it again. As…_interesting_, for lack of better words, as Tina was, I think I'll miss her.

"Don't worry about the Pepsi," he laughed, "I bought some for you."

"Aww, thank you! You're a doll," I smiled as he led me to the car. After turning on the car, we turned up the radio to sing to not classic rock, as I had expected, but to some jazz. "The Queen Bee?" I asked with a little smile.

"How'd you know?"

"I was in the jazz band at my high school in my senior year. I was second alto sax. It was my favorite one we played, The Queen Bee."

"Wow, nice. That's really cool."

"Yeah. Were you in band at all?"

"Nah, I was more of the computer programming kind of person."

"Is that why they call you McGeek?" I giggled.

"More or less," he smiled. He pulled into a rather small parking garage and turned the car off. "I'll carry your things."

"It's alright, I got it." I began to climb out of the car before I realized he had already grabbed my bag with the textbooks with a sheepish grin. "Fine, fine." I hoisted my clothes bag over my shoulder before he could grab that one too. "So what am I going to expect when I walk into your apartment?"

"To me, it seems pretty normal. There's books, and games, and television…"

"Very descriptive." We had reached the outside of his apartment, and after fishing around in his pocket, he found the keys. He let me walk in first and turned on the lights behind me. I was greeted by multiple bookshelves, brick walls, a comfy looking couch, and much more than I could take in on just one glance. "Wow. I like it." I said after a couple moments of staring.

"You do?" He asked, slightly taken aback. "It doesn't seem like your type."

"My dorm is mostly full of Tina's things," I laughed. "It's not my style per se, but I like it."

He smiled, "I'm glad. Let me give you a little tour...this is the living room, as you can probably tell. The kitchen is over there," he pointed to the left, "the bathroom is down that little hall, and my room," he pointed a little bit away from the bathroom, "is right there. You'll be sleeping there, so I'll get your things..."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I'll be on the couch. You're a guest, and it's probably safer for you."

I frowned. "That's not fair. It's your place."

He shrugged. "Still. You're my guest, so it's only right."

"I'm not trying to sound rude or anything, don't get me wrong, I think I'll really enjoy myself here. But…why was I placed here specifically?" I bit my lip, hoping that it didn't sound offensive.

"Tony has a girlfriend, Ziva would probably kill you if you accidentally woke her up—not to mention her driving skills—and Gibbs said he thought you would prefer it if you stayed here," Tim explained.

"Ah, okay," I smiled. "Just wondering." _Did Gibbs know about my little crush..? Oh, geez…_

"It's late, we should probably go to sleep. I cleaned my room for you, so it shouldn't be too horrible."

"I still don't think it's very fair. Tell you what. Whoever falls asleep first has to sleep in the bed," I smugly said, crossing my arms.

"Fine, it's a deal."

"I think I've got to warn you. With jet lag, Pepsi and all-nighters under my belt…I got this one in the bag."

"We'll see," he laughed.

In separate rooms, we had changed into our pajamas, and I walked back out to see Tim with the television on. "What're we watching?"

"The news," he simply said.

My face fell. If there was anything that could make me fall asleep, it was current events. We sat and talked about the things we saw on the news, with an effort to keep each other awake. As quickly as the conversation began, it lulled, and I find myself keeping an extra effort to stay awake. What felt like minutes was really hours, and it felt as if it were midnight now, and I was wondering why I felt so incredibly tired. It was incredibly unlike me (in my high school days, I'd stay up until two to get my homework done, and then I'd have to wake up at six).

As my body began to relax, and my eyelids began to fall, I could have sworn he said "Goodnight, Julia."

* * *

**Well, there's some Tim/Julia fluff for you.**

**I figured it was time. :P**

**There might be another chapter on Sunday. I hope so. I'm really digging writing this story. **

**(I mean, I'm actually writing it! I haven't given up on it at all, haha)**

**Thank god the exams are in 2-3 weeks (and of course my worst subject has to be first). ****Hopefully none of you have exams!**

**It always means a lot to me when you guys review, so please do! :3 [It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the insides]**

**-Amehhh.**


	13. Thom E Gemcity And APHIS

**Whuuuut. Second chapter in one week? And before 1:00, too? Crazy.**

**About one more week until the AP Chemistry test...and History...**

**Guess who's gonna get a fail grade? xD**

**Ugh. D: Who wants to be my doppelganger?**

* * *

When I woke up, I was surrounded by blankets and sheets. Begrudgingly, I hit the alarm clock and forced myself out of bed. As it turns out…I lost the bet, and I was condemned to the bed. The (really) comfortable bed. I walked out into the living room and saw Tim sprawled out on his couch. I crept over to him and gripped his arm before attempting to violently shake it. Although my pathetic attempts to violently shake his arm failed, he still started to come out of his slumber.

"Ugh…Julia…what time is it?" He asked tiredly.

"Time to wake up. I didn't really look at the clock. Get in the shower or something," I tried to laugh despite my half-asleep state of mind.

He wiped his mouth and threw the blankets off of himself. "I'll do that. There's cereal and milk in the kitchen, and some oatmeal...just take what you want," he grumbled as his feet touched the floor.

"Someone's not a morning person." I told him before walking over to the fridge.

"I never really expected you to be a morning person."

"Oh, I'm not. But normally Tina is gone before I am, so I have nobody to bother," I smiled. "Go take your shower."

"I'm going," he sauntered over to the bathroom door. I heard the door shut and the water begin.

I picked out a bowl from the cupboards, and poured some random cereal into it before pouring milk in the bowl. After successfully finding a spoon, I began to eat in silence. The shower was still running when I was done. I cleaned up my area and walked to the book shelf. The couch I sat on gave a soft, cushiony sound as I opened up a book that looked fairly intriguing. As I got a few pages in, I heard a voice behind me asking, "How do you like that book?"

I jumped for what felt like a mile. "Oh! Yeah, I like it a lot. It's pretty interesting so far. How do you like it? I mean, I'm guessing that you read it."

"I have to say that I like it."

"Why's that?"

"Well," he said, gently grabbing the book from me, and then turning it to show me the spine which read _Thom E. Gemcity_. "I wrote this."

"What?" My lips broke into a smile. "No way. That's not even your name," I laughed.

"Thom E. Gemcity is an anagram for Timothy McGee. The team had a case where the murderer was acting like the murderer in that book. It's loosely based off of them, and past experiences. They gave me hell for weeks. It was horrible," he laughed. "It's really funny I guess, looking back on it."

"So, is that what the typewriter is for?" I asked, glancing at his desk. "And the piles of papers next to it?"

"Yeah, it is. I use that instead of a computer. I'm going to have to ask you to not look at the manuscript, though. Nobody is allowed to look at it unless they're my editor or publisher."

"Oh, fine. As long as you have another book for me to read once I'm done?"

"But of course," he pointed to a few more books, "I've written those few, too."

"Oh, sweet." I glanced at the clock on the wall. "I do believe I am going to get dressed. I'll take the bathroom this time." I smiled and walked to his bedroom to get my clothes. When I entered the room, I took a deep breath.

His room smelled of him. He smelled lovely, really.

* * *

We walked into the office in a bit of a rush—we were almost late, but not quite. He sat down in his desk a few seconds before Gibbs walked in, and I waved him goodbye. My walk to Abby's lab wasn't that long, and I wasn't very surprised to see her standing in there, already working. "Hey Julia," she said with her back turned.

"Hey, Abby. How'd you…?"

"I can see your reflection," she smiled, turning around. "So, how was your night with Tim?"

I could tell Abby's smirk was that of a smug one. Casually, I told her, "Very nice. We slept in two different rooms."

"Don't tell me that Gibbs told you about rule number twelve."

"As a matter of fact, he made it a point to make Tim tell me about it," I laughed. "It's a pretty good rule, I guess. It's understandable."

"That doesn't mean you have to like it," she grinned. "Now! I've managed to lift some fingerprints off of the lamination of the ID cards. I have most of them running…they all look really, really similar, so I wouldn't be surprised if the fingerprints were of the same person. I saved these two for you to run."

I smiled. "You're going to let me use APHIS? I feel touched," I joked endearingly. I entered in the fingerprints as I'd seen Abby do so many times. After running them through successfully, I felt fairly good about myself that I'd been trusted enough to run fingerprints on her favorite machine."

We both waited for a couple of moments or so, secretly expecting and hoping for some sort of match. When APHIS didn't send out a beep, we turned to each other and began to sift through evidence. "Have we run the secretion yet? We may as well—even if it's a used car. But…" I pulled up the files of the car that we had found the previous days, "it's not. I wouldn't exactly expect it to be anybody else's." I handed the evidence to Abby and she proceeded to show me how to find the DNA of something so tiny (and on a cotton swab).

Abby and I both turned, shocked, as APHIS let out a ring when we had entered in the secretion just a few moments prior. "Well, it looks like there are two people," she said as two photos appeared on the screen. "Ludvig Borovsky—er, Anthony Black and Marcus Daniels seem to be our suspects. Hey, Gibbs."

"What've you got, Abs?" He asked, propping a Caf-Pow and a Pepsi on the table.

"Anthony Black, the suspected murderer has an accomplice. Marcus Daniels' fingerprints were found on what are the most recent and least used ID cards—we can tell by using a photospectrometer on it and seeing the different impressions—"

Gibbs gave her a look.

"But anyways, they're the most recent. They don't appear to have been used very often, so with this man's fingerprints all over them, he either sees Anthony a lot, or he made them for him. That's my stab at it."

I turned to the computer and typed at what felt like lightning speed to find out his address and where he worked. I quickly jotted it down onto a piece of paper and handed it to Gibbs.

"Thanks Abs, Joules," he said, kissing us both on the cheeks before walking off.

"We've done well, you and I." She said, turning back to the computers to explain to me once again how to get the DNA of secretion. I have to say, it was just as interesting as it was disgusting.

* * *

**Well, kindof short, but...oh well.**

**Time to study some more. D:**

**I hope you guys enjoyed it! **

**I'd absolutely enjoy it if you'd all review, it just might make a chapter come a little faster! :x**

**3**

**-Amehhh**


	14. A Shot in the Night

**Well...AP Chemistry this Monday, AP US History this Friday, AP English 11 next Wednesday. Which is exactly the reason why I updated this story today! **

**...Because I have no clue when I'll be able to update again. I _was_ a chapter ahead, but not so much anymore xD**

**Oh well. Haha. I've been studying so hard, my brain is practically fried.**

**Anyways: Story!**

* * *

Tim and I were laughing on the way to his apartment. "So Marcus Daniels wanted you to call him _Slusher_?"

He grinned, "A gang dubbed him that because he could get their younger members into bars with his fake IDs. He was bullied into it. He's a smart kid though, I'll give him that. Any regular bouncer wouldn't have noticed the difference. It's a shame he's getting mixed up into that lifestyle though."

"So…" I began, "how does he know Anthony Black?"

"Gibbs asked him that." He paused. "He wouldn't say for a while, but Gibbs did what Gibbs does and he got the answer out of him. They went to MIT together. They were friends, in a way. The last ID was made for him three months ago. This is why there's not a lot of documentation on that one, at all."

My lips pursed. "Has he seen Anthony recently?"

"No," he sighed. "The last time he saw him was when he made the last ID card. He didn't even realize that he was murdering people. He gave us Anthony's cell phone number. We've tried tracing it, but it's turned off. It's either that or it's destroyed. My computer is tracking it at the moment, or, when the phone turns on it will be. We'll probably have something in the morning," he tried to assure me.

"Hopefully," I grunted.

"Hey," Tim smiled over at me, "Cheer up. It's going to turn out perfectly alright. Why don't we order some take-out Chinese?"

I gave him a simple smile back. "That sounds nice. I'll bet you the same thing as I did last night."

"Judging by how quickly you fell asleep, I'm pretty confident that I'll win it again."

I frowned. "Be that way then," I laughed. "I'll just have to double up on the Pepsi, I suppose."

"You do that," he smiled as he pulled into the parking garage of his apartment. It wasn't a long walk to his apartment, and the warmth that greeted me after opening the door was pleasant. I took in his smell yet again, and landed myself on his couch. "Bring it, Timmy. I'm prepared this time."

"I don't know," he grinned, setting his keys down on his table. "You seem a little tired…"

"Don't you dare try to coerce me out of this one," I warned him.

"Why would I ever do that?" He feigned innocence. He sat down next to me, and proceeded to very slowly, for effect, turn the television on to the news station.

I attempted to wrestle him for the remote, but Tim and his grin made sure I didn't get it. "Fine. Be that way. See if I care," I leaned against the armrest and started to watch the news, which was explaining some new controversial breakthrough in science. I occasionally found myself drifting off but managed to peel my eyes open long enough to hit the eleven o' clock mark. "What's wrong with me?" I questioned myself, half forgetting that he was sitting right next to me.

"What?"

"Oh. Don't worry about it," I laughed. _How could I have forgotten? I must be more tired than I thought._

"I'm worrying about it," he smiled.

"I don't know why I'm so tired all the time now. It's absolutely unethical of me," I explained, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"You could always…go to sleep." He suggested, adding emphasis on the last three words.

"I don't think so, my dear sir. Je dormirai quand je serai mort." I mumbled, unaware of what I was saying.

He gave me an utterly confused look. "Excuse me?"

"…What?" I asked.

"You just said something in French," he pointed out with a bemused expression.

"Did I? Sorry," I rubbed my eyes, "I'll sleep when I'm dead, I said."

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, and then shut it a moment later. I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. I suppose I _did_ make it a little difficult for someone to choose a response with my choice of words… "Well, either way, you're tired. Let's get you to bed." He held out his hand for me to take as he stood up.

Either I really, _really_ wanted to go to bed and my tired body was making more of a decision than my brain, or his hand was just too enticing to refuse. I grabbed it, and I recognized even with my tired state of mind, that while it was smooth, it also held calluses in some places. I gave him a tired smile as my grasp on his hand tightened. It was almost as if I was in some sort of trance where I could still move my body, yet I wasn't exactly all there. Maybe I really _should_ get to bed earlier… I felt him wrap his arm around my waist in an effort to guide me to his room, and so as I didn't fall down and hit my head on something.

I gingerly sat down on his bed and kicked my shoes off. "Get some sleep, alright?" He asked me (although it sounded more of a light request than a question).

"You too," I looked up at him and gave him a little smile as my body slowly began to shut down. All I had to do was stay up for five more minutes so I could get my pajamas on. _I can do this._ He leaned down to my level, and I only registered what he was doing when his lips were on my forehead.

"Night, Julia." He gave me a classic grin. _Man, he sure does smile a lot._

I responded, "Night, Tim," before throwing on my pajamas and blissfully falling asleep.

* * *

I frantically shot upwards and became frighteningly awake as I heard a shot—or, at least I think it was a shot—ring out in the distance. I glanced over at the clock (it was two in the morning). I felt near positive that that was a shot I had just heard. It could be any kind of shot, really. It could have easily been accidental, or some stupid teenagers, right? _Right? _I tried to coax the thought out of my mind and to fall back asleep. My eyes found themselves peeling open as a small voice whispered in the back of my mind, _but what if it wasn't stupid teenagers? What if you're the next one now? He could get you at any moment of any given day. You're right where he wants you. _

I threw the covers off of my body and found the door. Tim, surprisingly was awake also. He was sitting upright on the couch. "You heard it, too?" He asked me when I was only a few feet behind him. He turned to see my panicked face. "Are you okay?" It was as serious as I've heard him yet.

I didn't move from my position in his living room. I merely whispered, "I think I'm next." My body felt completely rigid.

He stood up and put his hands on my face. "I'm sure it was just a false alarm," he said in a calm, soothing tone. "There's probably nothing to worry about. Let's go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can," I managed to croak out. I knew I was acting somewhat pathetic. People in this business probably had to go through this a lot—I just hoped I never had to get used to it. "What if—"

Tim cut me off, "How about we don't say any 'what if's. You need your sleep."

"I…I can't—I'm afraid. Please stay with me tonight." _Screw rule number twelve._

He gave me a soft smile. "Alright." We walked to his room in morose silence. I walked to what I now declared my side of the bed and crawled under the covers, wide-eyed. He slowly slid in next to me. "It _is_ going to be okay. You know that, don't you?" He grasped my smaller hand in his larger one.

I nodded, and then realized he couldn't see me, so I told him, "Yeah. I know," with a small voice. Subconsciously, I scooted closer to him and found myself nearly clinging to his warmth in the comparison of the colder sheets. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders

"Try not to think about it," he whispered as he rubbed my shoulder with his hand..

I felt safe.

And with that feeling of invincibility, I demanded to myself that I close my eyes with a smile, fall asleep, and enjoy these moments of bliss before I had to get up in a couple hours.

* * *

**How was that, lovely readers?**

**More fluff, I guess xD**

**I'm kinda bummed, I don't know how much longer this story is gonna last. :( **

**How many of you think we can get to fifty reviews?**

**Well...now I get to make more notecards. Joyous days. Night, all.**

**-Amehhh**


	15. Kelly Edwards

**Happy Mother's Day to all of the beautiful mothers out there! **

**I personally went out very early to our Haggen to get flowers. My mother certainly liked the flowers, but I think she was more amazed I got up before noon. **

**You're all wonderful people for having to wait for so long. APUSH was an absolute and utter success. AP Chem...? Eh, not so much, haha.**

**Only one test left!**

**Please read and review for funsies? :D**

* * *

I heard the alarm clock be shut off nearly half a second after it came on. I snuggled up closer to what I thought was just an extremely warm pillow until I heard it speak to me "You know we have to get up sometime today, don't you, Julia?" in an amused voice.

I mumbled, "Whatever," before realizing that it was Tim that talked, and not a pillow. "Oh! Geez, sorry, I uh—have no control of what I do when I sleep," the words frantically rushed out. _How long had he been awake?_

He laughed at me, with a grin that was contagious. "What will Abby say, hm? C'mon, we better get ready for work." He got up and began to rummage through his closet. "Are you…gonna get ready?" He asked, glancing at me as I was still lying in the bed.

"Err…yeah," I groaned, lifting myself off of the mattress. I felt myself flush, so I hid my face as I dug through my bag, looking for something acceptable to wear. "I'll be in the bathroom." I threw on clothes and proceeded with my daily routine before walking out and finding myself in an empty room. _I suppose I'd take a long time, too, if I had to tuck in my shirts every day. _I looked down at my untucked shirt, and suddenly I was grateful.

He walked out a couple moments later and smiled at me. "No breakfast?"

I glanced toward him, "Nah, I don't usually do breakfast. Only occasionally," I yawned.

"Are you sure about that? I can make eggs or something," Tim frowned.

"No, really, I'm fine," I smiled.

"Then," he said, reaching into a cupboard and handing me a breakfast bar, "eat this sometime before lunch, alright?"

I looked at him with a smile, "Alright," and grabbed the bar from him. I tore the wrapper off and started eating it. "Happy now?"

"Very." He looked at the clock on the wall and said, "We should probably head off." He grabbed his keys and stood up.

I followed him out to his car in a nearly awkward silence like it normally was. I decided to break the silence, "I'm sorry if that was awkward for you. But thank you for what you did last night," I looked up at him and smiled.

Tim stopped and looked at me. "Julia," he began with a small smile, "you were really frightened last night. I wouldn't want you to stay scared, ever. I'm here to protect you, remember? And I'm going to do just that, whether it's in the same bed or not."

I laughed. "Still. Thank you. It meant a lot to me."

"Any time," he said, putting his arm around me. "You look a lot better when you're happy."

"Was that a compliment?" I slyly asked.

"If you want it to be," he grinned.

* * *

We entered the office on the dot, and departed almost immediately. When I walked into the lab, Abby once again surprised me by greeting me with her back turned. "So how was your night with Tim?"

"Are you going to ask that every day when I walk in here?" I walked over to the computers.

She pretended to think, "Hmm…no. But it is written all over your face. So what did you two do?"

"Absolutely nothing, for your information," I laughed.

"I don't believe you," she eyed me before explaining what she had come up with. "We're currently tracking his cell phone. His information is up here," she pointed to another computer screen. "Are you familiar with cyber counterterrorism?"

"Not specifically. I know a couple things, but I couldn't fight off…well, a terrorist with just a computer. Unless it was a really old Mac computer from the 80's or 90's. Then again, my problem would be picking it up."

She laughed. "Nice one. C'mere, I'll show you how to track information backwards." Abby closed the screen and showed me as in depth as possible, step by step, how to backtrack for information. She also explained how to find out if he had encrypted any code in that it would self destruct or crash the system—and how sometimes a person just plain wouldn't know before the entire computer system shut down. Not only that, she made me understand the importance of looking for a code in his messages: "You see here, his texts don't seem very harmful. In fact, I've read through all of them this morning before you got here. I've looked for patterns and anagrams, but they all seem to be fairly normal. However, here are the numbers of people he has been in contact with. I've given Gibbs all of them, and how frequently he has been in contact with them. Tony and Ziva—even Gibbs is calling them."

"Tim would probably be trying to backtrack the people's profiles, right?"

"Right!" She turned around to face me. "Any questions?"

"Just one," I began with an uneasy stomach. "Did you hear a shot last night?"

She thought for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I didn't. I haven't been notified of another case relating to this one, so…I really doubt that it's something to worry about. Let's distract you, alright?" She walked over to her CD player and put on one of her favorite bands (which I had learned about on the first day, and nearly every day after that), Brain Matter. "Now…" She went around the computers to get something.

I felt my phone vibrate. It was one of the few days I didn't turn it off. Well, I could always say I was a little distracted. I looked at the text. It was from Tim, which read: _I asked Gibbs about the shot we heard last night. The team next to us is working on that case. _ I quickly responded with a short: _Okay, cool. Thanks._

"Texting Tim?" Abby asked as close to cooing as she could.

"Er, yeah, sorry about that. He sent me a text about..." For how few words I had said, I had apparently made an effort to stutter every other one.

"Don't worry about it," she laughed, "we weren't doing anything for about ten seconds, and I doubt you're a slow texter. But, let's get started on this."

I felt my phone vibrate again. I disregarded it, originally viewing it as a possible response from my message to Tim. As it kept vibrating, I didn't exactly doubt that it was a call. "Oh, geez. I'm sorry, I have a call." I looked at the caller ID—it was Tim. "Hello?" I spoke into the receiver.

"Hey, Julia, I have some news…" By now it was around one—Abby explaining things certainly took a large amount of time.

"Alright, spill," I suggested.

"Gibbs just got a call," I could hear him exhale a large breath. "Kelly Edwards is dead. It was um…pretty brutal. I just figured I should let you know now, so that—"

I had hung up on him. "I'm going to see Ducky." I left Abby's lab before she could stay anything. I walked as fast as I could—and then slowly felt myself turning it into a jog. Palmer was taking notes on a pad of paper with a pen. "Where's Kelly?"

"Over there," he pointed with his pen towards a girl who already had a protocol Y-incision, exploiting her body.

Ducky entered as I walked over to her body. "Hello, Julia. I wasn't expecting you here." He saw me looking at her body. "There is no hiding it from you, really, I suppose. We just retrieved her body an hour ago. Dreadfully terrible fate…"

He looked at her mutilated body with me. There were bruises all over her—not to mention tiny superficial cuts. In between her two eyes was a hole. "He's playing with them, isn't he? Like a cat plays with a mouse, huh? They're getting worse, aren't they…" It became more of a statement than a question.

He gave the same kind of exhale Tim had done. "It…_does_ look like that. I'm going to be honest—as the murders progress, the damage done is a lot worse than the previous ones."

"Alright," my mouth had become dry. "I'm going to go back to the lab. I'll see you around, Ducky. Thanks for the info."

Somberly, I walked to Abby's lab. Abby, patiently waiting for me while working with her computers. "What was that about?" She asked. There wasn't any anger in her voice. Knowing Gibbs and the rest of the team, that must happen a lot to her.

"Kelly Edwards is dead. We worked on a lab project together. And, ah…"

"That means…you're next," she finished for me.

"Yeah, I suppose I am. Why don't we work on…something?" I reached for papers that looked to be of importance.

"Let's work on something," she agreed.

* * *

**And so that concludes the chapter! **

**Ah snap.**

**I hope you have a great rest of the day! **

**And if you wouldn't mind reviewing...**

**(It makes me happy)**

**-Amehhh**


	16. Too Much Sugar

**Okay guys...here it is. And a whole day early! Haha.**

**AP Exams are completely done...yet my teachers still seem to force homework onto me. **

**Darn them.**

* * *

"You seem to be faring well." Tim commented, as we were about halfway from his apartment.

"I've just…come to realize, I guess, that I just need to accept it. I have had days to accept this, and time has just…run out." I glanced out the window. It was absolutely dark outside. Everyone had stayed a couple hours overtime to work on the case. Witnesses were called in, people called people and went to places to gather evidence…all in a day's work.

He looked over at me. "Julia, don't say that. Nothing is written in stone about anything. We are going to catch him."

I shrugged. "Everyone keeps saying that, but nobody has."

We both went silent again.

"You aren't going to be out of sight from any of us. We're all going to be protecting you. Nothing has happened to you yet, has it?"

"That's because I wasn't his target yet." He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I told him in a moody tone: "Save it. I just want to sleep," and I rested my head upon the window. When we arrived at his apartment, he kindly escorted me indoors. "I'm going to change into my pajamas. I'll be right back." I entered his room and slid on the door as I shut it behind me. It could be any moment now. He could be a sniper and shoot me through the window. He could be hiding under the bed or even in the closet. At any moment, and I could be dead.

I hadn't realized how long I was taking until Tim knocked on the door: "Julia? You alright? You've been a while."

I jumped up from my spot on the floor. "Yeah," I called back out, "Just give me one more minute." After throwing on my pajamas in a rush, I walked out and fell onto the couch. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I couldn't find my shirt," I lied.

"Ah. It's pretty late," he said, glancing at the clock. "We should get to bed."

"We probably should," I agreed starting to walk towards him a little bit.

"Do you need me to stay in there again? I mean, you were pretty freaked out last night."

I looked up at him with a huge grin, "Timothy McGee, do you want to sleep in the same bed as me? I'm touched." I walked closer to him, so that our chests almost touched. I had to say, this was much more fun for me than it was for him.

"Wha…?" He became flustered. "I didn't say that, I was just—"

"Just what? Implying it?"

"That's—"

"Don't worry about it," I giggled. "You can join me any time you want." I began to walk to his bedroom.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He gave me a confused look.

I slipped behind the door and told him, "Anything you want it to." I started to roll the covers down on _my _side of the bed. If he was to come in and join me again, he'd have to know to never go on my side. …Of his bed. Which he probably paid for. No matter. It was still my side, and that's that. To my surprise, he actually did come into the room, and shut the door behind him.

"You really don't mind, do you?" He asked for permission.

"No," I smiled, "I don't. In fact, it makes the nights a little warmer. It's so different being alone in a room the size of my dorm." Crawling underneath the blankets, I could feel myself relax.

He crawled in next to me. "Alright." He turned off the lamp next to him. "What _did_ you mean?" Tim looked towards me.

"Oh," I made eye contact with him, "Don't worry about it."

"…I'm worrying," he said after a while.

"Don't worry about it." It didn't even occur to me that I had forgotten all about Anthony Black.

* * *

The next morning, we found ourselves wrapped in each other's arms yet again. Luckily for me (and maybe for him?) it wasn't nearly as awkward as it was the previous day. He had done the same thing as before: turned off the alarm clock, and tried to wake me up. "Julia…" He mumbled, gently shaking me.

"One more minute," I moaned. "Weggehen."

"What?" Tim asked.

"Go away." Groaning, I rolled over, clutching the blankets around my body.

"That's not very nice."

"You aren't pouting, are you?" I had absolutely no will to open my eyes to see if he was. In fact, the only will I had was to fall back asleep.

"No." He exhaled. "Well, if you're not going to get up, I'm going to take a shower. If you're not up by the time I get out, I will not hesitate to take all of the covers off of you."

I made noises of distress and rolled over again. I heard him turn the lamp on next to me, and not a moment too soon, light penetrated my eyes. "Dear God…" He left the room, I could tell. "No quiero." After getting up (slowly), I heard the water from the shower turn on. Begrudgingly, I found myself in the kitchen a minute later, making some eggs. Oh yes, he'd definitely like my eggs. (I was a pro at making them). Or was that my mind just being odd? It was probably both—I made a killer breakfast. I threw some bacon from his fridge onto a skillet and started to brew coffee. I was so preoccupied with my cooking that I didn't even realize that Tim was standing in the kitchen with me.

"What're you making?" He asked me.

"Oh, Jesus!" I nearly jumped a mile. "You scared the shit out of me."

He just grinned.

"For your information," I began once my heart rate went down a couple beats, "I'm making us a lovely breakfast to start our day off with. I mean, if you want any that is. But I certainly don't think I could eat all of this myself."

"Of course I'll have some. It's not every day a pretty girl makes you breakfast."

My face flushed at his comment. "And it's not every day that I get a compliment from the famous Thom E. Gemcity."

"A little flattery goes a long way," he laughed.

I giggled. It certainly did. Straight to my little, tiny, bursting heart. "How do you like your coffee?" I asked, pouring it into a mug.

"Some milk and two spoonfuls of sugar, please." He opened a cabinet (which I had never really took notice in) to pull out a bin full of sugar. After fixing his coffee up, I prepared mine.

"You don't mind if I use your sugar, do you?" I asked him, hoping he wouldn't mind.

"Not at all. Go for it."

"Alright, thanks. I'll buy you more if you need," I picked up the bin.

"What do you—"

He was cut off by me pouring more sugar than necessary into my coffee. "And now…" I poured in a minimal amount of milk. "Perfect."

"How can you drink that?"

"Just like this," I said, lifting the mug to my mouth and taking a sip.

He laughed. "You never cease to amaze me."

* * *

**Ta-dahhh. I feel much more boring now that I actually get a decent amount of sleep xD Hmm.**

**I hope you all rather enjoyed it and feel the impulse to review!**

**Also, if you're on a Harry Potter binge, I posted the first chapter to a new story I've been working on. ...Imperio?**

**Have a good weekend, everyone! :)**

**-Amehhh**


	17. Getting The Mail

**Rapture Day, everyone!**

**How many believe this? I'm rather curious, haha. I wouldn't exactly mind it if we all still lived and the natural disasters stayed natural instead of biblical.**

**Relay for Life at my school is today! Is anyone doing that either? :)**

**Read and review if you'd like-I know I'd like it!**

* * *

It was a few days later, and the team had found his apartment—if you could call it that. He lived there with his friend, and never paid the rent, so, the lease was never under his name, which was why he became so difficult to find. Apparently, according to the interrogation, he had left a couple weeks ago, along with his friend's car. The license plate number was given to Gibbs and the team, and they'd been trying to track it. They found it, contacted him, and the license plates had been switched.

Abby and I had screened the license plate and the license border for prints, but considering the couple days of rain that the D.C. area had, it was virtually impossible to lift one. We had recovered a partial fingerprint, but it wasn't nearly big enough for APHIS to confirm that it was really Anthony Black's.

By now, the fear had gone from my body. I was not necessarily fully prepared, but prepared. I felt like I could face him with all the confidence I had—which had been boosted frequently, thanks to Tim. Yes, I was positive I could take on anything.

Abby propped a Pepsi in front of me. "You look a little depleted," she said, taking notice of my finished Pepsi. "So you and Tim seem to be getting friendly." There was that smug little smile again.

"Well, we _are_ friends," I countered. "Friends generally act friendly with each other." I took a sip from the Pepsi she sat in front of me. Good, tasty, sweet Pepsi.

"Oh, come on," she rolled her eyes. "You can tell me. We talk to each other all day."

"Yes, we do," I confirmed.

She squinted her eyes. "You _like_ him, don't you?"

"What?" My voice ended up being higher than I wanted it to be. "Of course not, we're just friends."

"Of course you are, of course you are," she said, grabbing her phone.

"What're you doing?" I asked her, curious of what she was doing with her phone. After hearing her say, 'nothing,' I realized what she was doing. "Abby Sciuto. Give me your phone now."

"Nope."

I began to fight her for her phone. Multiple buttons were smashed, causing the message to turn into one load of gibberish. We were probably both thankful that we weren't fighting over a gun—one of us most definitely would have been shot by now.

"Uh, girls?" Gibbs walked in with a bemused expression on his face.

"Hey there Gibbs!" Abby asked, as perky as usual, despite our struggle over her phone.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," I told him. "Just some fun."

He gave me a look that told me he didn't believe it. "What've you got?"

"Well," she gave a look of distress, "we haven't got—" One of her computers beeped theatrically. We all walked over to her computer. She got extremely excited: "We've been using our face matching profile to sift through today's security cameras through this area—this means he's been sighted!"

His voice immediately became urgent. "_Where_, Abby?"

"Working on it!" She typed furiously as Gibbs made a call to Tony ("Get the car ready!"). "Got it!" She wrote down the address as fast as she could and handed it to him. He was already out the door before we could shout good luck.

We kept a strained focus on the computer, and streamed feeds from other security cameras onto other computers, just in case his face showed up somewhere else.

* * *

"We almost had him, Julia. We really did." Tim looked over at me. We were watching the news which I had grown a little accustomed to. I didn't fall asleep as easily as I used to (or was that the popcorn I was eating?). I smiled to myself. His arm was lifted on the back of the couch, and ultimately, around my shoulders—if you got technical about it. "We were just a couple minutes too late."

He had told me this story multiple times. I had a feeling that it was supposed to calm me down that they were so close. Abby and I had called Gibbs to let them know that he was spotted near the outskirts of D.C. They had rushed over there as fast as they could, but he wasn't there. They showed pictures to people on the street and they directed them further along. They drove for another hour. There was no sign of a similar car, a similar face. Just nothing. Absolutely nothing. They drove back with less than high spirits or hope.

At least, they figured, that if they got that close this time, that they might get him the next time. Next time, they'd be ready, they'd drive even faster.

I kept telling him "It's going to be alright. You tried your best. If you're supposed to catch him, you're going to catch him. If I'm supposed to die now, I'll die now. Everything happens for a reason." And he kept shaking his head muttering "It does, but it doesn't make it alright. You're a great person. You don't deserve to die, Julia." And I kept telling him that "Just because I don't deserve to die doesn't mean I won't." And then he gave me a look that was totally and utterly unreadable, which I must say is strange because usually he's so easy to read.

I decided to just shoot the question that had been plaguing my mind for the past few days. "Tim?" He looked back at me from the television. "What would you do if I died?"

He muted the television. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because I'm curious," I stated. "One day I'm going to have to die, whether it be in a couple minutes or in fifty years."

"You're not going to die in a couple minutes, or in fifty years. Maybe fifty-one."

I laughed. "You haven't answered my question." He gave me another unreadable look. "You're not going to get out of it."

He looked down at his hands, which were now folded in his pants-covered lap. My hands were rested on my pajama-covered lap. "I don't know what I'd do. I'd miss you. A lot." He looked back up at me with the same unreadable look.

"What's with that look you're giving me?"

"What look?" He asked.

"The one you're giving me."

He countered, "I'm not giving you a look."

I gave him a look this time. "Of course you aren't."

"Exactly." He glanced over at the table next to the couch. "I forgot my mail. I'll be right back. You'll be okay, right?"

"No," I looked at him with wide eyes. "You being gone for just two minutes will not be okay with me."

He stood there, shifting eyes for a minute. "Ah…"

I giggled. "I'll be fine. Go get your mail."

"Alright," he gave a little smile.

I reached for the popcorn bowl that was sitting in front of us and popped a few into my mouth. I heard him shut the door and then go outside of the apartment. I could even hear him start to go down the stairs. Now that I noticed it, it seemed like a long while. Looking at the clock, I noticed that it had hardly been a minute. Does time really fly by that quickly with him?

The door opened and closed again. "Welcome back," I called out. He didn't respond right away. It must have been a heavy load. "Well alrighty then, don't respond."

"So Julia," a pair of hands went around my throat. "How has your time been without me?" The thick accent was unmistakable.

No wonder he didn't respond. It wasn't Tim.

* * *

**So...I've never really done a cliffhanger before, but I thought that I'd try one for once ;)**

**I'd absolutely love you forever if you'd alllll review! Just five seconds out of your time, everyone! Haha.**

**Anyways, spend the last six hours of your life doing craaaaazy stuff. Maybe not. Cause it might not happen.**

**Have a good...six hours :D**

**-Amehhh**


	18. The Wrong Wrist

**So...assuming by your reactions you didn't enjoy the cliffhanger? ;)**

**Good. I'm glad.**

* * *

My breath hitched. "Pretty good," I told him. What was I going to do, lie to him? I made eye contact with a drawer in his desk. If I could just get the gun inside of it, I'd be safe. He'd told me the first day that I stayed here that there was a gun in that drawer, and that it was unlocked…I looked at the door. He had locked it.

"That's good." His hands tightened around my throat. It was getting harder to breathe. What floor were we on? It couldn't be that long to get mail… And I certainly couldn't scream for help with him restricting my air. I did the first thing I could think of in my oxygen lacking state. I picked up the popcorn bowl and hit him on the head with it, despite the fact I couldn't see him.

His hands flew off of me as he screamed "You _bitch_!" Was I the first one to fight back? I immediately jumped off of the couch and flew to the desk. I tried to open the drawer. It jiggled but didn't open. Could it have been locked? No, it couldn't have been—there was no keyhole.

I heard his breathing stabilize again and I knew I didn't have much time to unjam the drawer. I looked over my shoulder—the one thing I shouldn't have done. His nose was bleeding (did I break it?) and his hand was gripping the side of his face. "It'll be over for you soon enough. Flesh wound."

I could have nearly broken into a laugh had it not been for my life's peril. Flesh wound? Monty Python? What a Tony reference.

"Julia?" I heard from outside the door. He was pounding it probably as hard as he could. "What's going on in there?"

"Shut up, boy!" Black shouted back.

"Julia!" He began to attempt to push in the door. I heard him call for help.

Black gave me a nasty grin. "You think he's going to save you, don't you? You think that he's going to be your hero, that I'll go to jail and you two will live happily ever after. Is that correct, Julia? Is that so?"

It was as if he was taunting me. Tim still couldn't break in just yet, and a couple people were outside clearly in a frenzy.

"Do you like forensic science? It's quite an art—I would know. I used to teach there before I had the counterterrorism teacher delete every single bit of my information. Is that what you and your lover were thinking about? How nobody could detect me? For one, you have to be very educated. And you don't seem to be that type. Did anybody tell you that this was in the job description?"

"You don't know anything about me." My voice was shaky. He was just talking to me—why wasn't he attacking me? Why wasn't he trying to shoot me or kill me? In the back of my mind, I heard my old criminal psychology professor talk about how sometimes they were like cats who played with their food. Didn't Ducky say something like that?

I had no clue why I was thinking about Ducky at a time like this. He couldn't help me. He could only look after my body after I was dead.

Dead. _Dead._ That's what I was going to be if I didn't make a move for it. _C'mon, Tim…I can't stall him any longer. _

"I wasn't talking about you, Julia." I hated the way he said my name. "I was talking about your major. How…_dangerous_ it is. It was a stupid person, just like you, who took my job, who didn't know what they were doing. If anybody is going to stop me, they better do a damn well good job of it. Not a half-assed job like you have done."

I was speechless.

"Say your last words, Julia." He cracked his neck on both sides.

I began to prepare myself to run.

He bolted after me—we ran in circles. He didn't appear to have a gun. He knew Tim was outside—if he had a gun, he wouldn't hesitate, and he'd escape through the fire escape—I knew that much. I threw books off of Tim's bookshelf. I threw pens and pencils and even his games. I felt bad for wrecking his things, but they could be replaced. He ended up seizing my wrist and yanked down hard on it. My shoulder didn't dislocate, but I did hear a crack.

"Wrong wrist," I spoke. Where had these words come from? I didn't want to speak to him. I didn't want to die. I was completely wrong. Nobody was ever prepared to die, not even I, Julia Anne Abrahams.

He gave a bemused look. It was too bad he stopped to give me that expression: I hit him hard on the jaw, with my other hand. Thank Allah Ziva stopped to teach me how to hit things.

"I'm left handed, you bastard." I wheezed from the pain in my wrist but ran to the bathroom—it at least had a lock and a tiny window.

The hit on the jaw wasn't hard enough to do enough damage, even though it did manage to shock him enough into giving up my wrist. Before setting off to run after me, he landed a punch on me as well—right in the side.

I wheezed again. I really should have exercised more. He was only a few paces behind me, but I was quick enough to slam the door in his face—which he cried out for again—and to stand on the toilet. I had no idea why I had ran here—it wasn't like I could escape. In fact, I had cornered myself. I looked behind me for some secret trap door that I hoped would appear.

No secret trap door appeared, but I did lift up the lid of the back of the toilet. I propped it above my head, ready to strike. The pain from my wrist from holding the lid up was nearly unbearable, but not so unbearable that I wouldn't be able to hit him against his head and he would get what he deserved.

Regardless of how small Tim's bathroom was, he took painfully slow steps. Had I managed to slam it on his foot, too?

"Nowhere to run," he mused. "Nowhere to hide. You're on your last seconds, Julia. How does it feel?" He had stopped short from where I was standing. Luckily, his toilet was in the corner of the bathroom, right next to the shower. Unless he could see through showers, I was in the safe for a few more moments.

I forced my breath to become shallow and less noticeable, even though he knew I was there.

"So tell me," said Black. "Just how...does it feel?" He rounded the corner.

Unable to will myself to move and hit him above his head with this extremely weighted object, I accidentally let it drop. I almost began to cry then—what had I done? My only form of protection was now on the ground.

I heard him strangle a cry. "You mother…"

I had hit him straight in the eye before he could finish his sentence. Somehow, the force was strong enough to knock him over—or was it the lack of footing, since the toilet lid was on one of his feet and made it difficult to move?

"Julia!" I heard Tim's voice call out from the living room. I never heard him open the door.

"In here!" I called out frantically, still standing on the toilet.

"Don't you dare move," Tim said to Black with a gun pointed at him. "If you move even one step, I will not hesitate to shoot you."

Black sent him a glare. If looks could kill, they'd both be dead. I kept standing on the toilet. I didn't want to get down.

Tim removed a pair of handcuffs from his pockets. I took a good look at him. He was still in his work clothes, which would explain the random gun and handcuffs. It must be a cop protocol to carry those things with you at all times. He pushed black against the shower and cuffed his hands together.

He removed his cell phone and dialed a number. "Gibbs? Get to my apartment. _Now._" Tim held Black against the shower with one hand and held his other hand out for me. I gingerly grabbed it with my left hand and cradled my right one against my body. It was bruised, badly. He took notice of this and looked at me with yet another one of his unreadable looks. Since when have I not been able to know what he's been thinking?

Black struggled a little bit against Tim, and Tim shoved him back onto the shower. How long would it be until Gibbs got here? Seconds felt like hours. Occasionally, Black and I made eye contact and I had to fight back a squeal of pain and frightenedness.

At last, Gibbs rushed onto the scene with Tony and Ziva. "Good job, Tim," he praised in a slightly gruff voice. All of them looked as if they had just woken up. Their hair was a mess and they were in jeans and protective vests. Gibbs took hold of Black and started saying things to him that I thought I could piece together but couldn't because of how frightened I was. He could have killed me. I could have died.

Tim grabbed my good hand and walked me to just outside of the bathroom at a pace I could follow at my numb state. It wasn't until I was out of the sight of Black and Gibbs that I could let myself go. I could feel the warm tears running down my face.

"I know you aren't, but are you okay?" He asked me, pulling me into a hug.

I didn't shake my head or nod it up and down. I didn't know how to feel.

He pulled away from me and put his hand on my forehead, raising my bangs, as if to feel for my temperature. "Oh, God, if I knew that this was going to happen, I would never have…"

The tears from the fear and the pain coincided. It hurt, but I was alive. I rubbed my face into his chest—I felt rather badly about this; I had probably gotten snot all over his suit.

"I'm so sorry, Julia. I'm so, so, so sorry. If I had…If I had lost you, I'd just…"

I looked up at him, wanting to prompt him to finish his sentence. I almost did. The thing that made me not do it though, was his lips pressed against mine. It was a short kiss. It was a long kiss. It was everything in between.

He pulled away from me all too soon. "I'd just be so sad," he finished.

* * *

**And how was that?**

**Gushy enough to satisfy your gushy needs?**

**As always, I'd love to know what you think ;)**

**(And as for shameless self promotion, I have a Harry Potter fanfiction, if you, idunno, wanna check it out.)**

**Love youuuuu.**

**-Amehhh**


	19. Epilogue

**Okay guys! Last chapter! :(**

**I've had such a good time typing this all up. **

**To be honest, it's the first story I've ever really finished.**

**I hope you absolutely *love* it. Or just like it. Liking it is fine.**

**Read and review, my lovelies!**

* * *

I came to the office the next day with my wrist in a cast. "Are you sure it'll be okay to be so late?" I looked up at Tim, whose arm was around me.

"Trust me," he grinned, "it'll be just fine."

"Where is everyone, anyways? Are they on a new case, or something?" Every single chair in their row was empty. Gibbs' coffee was sitting on his desk, though. It had to be either empty or cold. Otherwise, there was no reason why he'd just leave it there.

"Probably not just yet. They have to write a report. And believe me, it's going to be a hefty one," he explained. "C'mon. I'll walk you to Abby's lab." He walked me over to the elevators, where the director glanced at me and gave me a courteous wave. I waved back with my good hand with a smile. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" I asked, looking up at him. We walked into Abby's lab and immediately, buzzers went off and confetti was thrown. I gave a shriek of surprise.

"Julia!" Abby shouted, hugging me not a second after. "I was so _worried_. Gibbs called and told me what happened. I stayed up all night preparing this—they all helped of course, but..! Ohhh, I'm just glad that you're alright!" I wasn't exactly able to admit that I wasn't perfectly fine, much less "alright" but I put on a grin anyways. Hers was absolutely contagious.

Gibbs walked over and gave me a peck on the forehead. "You did a _great_ job, Julia. I'm proud of you." He put a can of Pepsi in my left hand. "You seem like the kind of person who likes the metal taste."

I smiled at him, "I am that kind of person."

"Out of the way, out of the way, guys." Tony made his way in. It was surprising that he wasn't hit over the head. "Hey, Joules," he pulled me in for a hug. "I knew you could do it." He tousled my hair.

Ducky and Palmer made their way over next, giving me a group hug. Ducky got the most of the group hug and mumbled something like, "I'll have to tell you about something that reminds me of this case."

Ziva waited patiently for her turn after Tony made some obscure movie reference. "I'm glad you are alright, Julia." She, too, pulled me in for a hug. Honestly, she didn't seem like the hugging type. Apparently she was.

"Well, you saved my ass Ziva. I punched him just like how you told me to," I smiled yet again. It must be plastered on my face by now.

"I'm glad you're a good listener. Tony was a pretty good sparring partner too, was he not?"

I glanced over at Tony who now had a look of discomfort on his face. "We didn't really spar. It was a bit impossible to with you holding me down," he glared at Ziva. "I'm pretty glad you were more successful with Black than you were with me."

"Say…" I thought of Black after he mentioned the name. "What happened to him?"

"We interrogated him last night," Gibbs began. "He's probably sitting in jail right now. His court case has been filed. It shouldn't be too much longer before he's sentenced to life in prison. If anything, I think he deserved it."

"Me too," I found myself agreeing and remembering my criminal psychology professor. "Who cares about the psychology of it all?"

"Can we tell her now?" Abby piped up, waving her hand in the air furiously.

I looked up at Tim. "Tell me what?"

"You'll find out," he said, looking at Abby. I followed his eyes to her smiling face.

"Go ahead, Abs," Gibbs gave her permission.

"So!" She stated with her usual peppy tone of voice, stomping her (God knows how many inches those were) heels on the ground. "It turns out that today is the best day to do this. It is your last day as my lab partner for this program, and the day after your not death! However, we all have a proposition for you."

I gave her a curious look. "Which is…?"

"The director of NCIS gave us permission to offer you one of our internships. NCIS, annually, gives out about 150 internships to different places around the U.S.A. They range from forensics to counter computer terrorism to a homicide case squad. And, our director, has offered you one of those. So, if you'd like to return, it'd probably be on a different team, but that doesn't mean that you'd never see us. In fact, it'd mean that you can see us even more. You wouldn't work as long as you have now, considering you have school, but when the summer hits, you can work full time, if you want. It'll be a paid internship, so that there's no need for a second job."

It was a little much to take in. Was I being offered a job? She said it was an internship, but… My face broke into an even wider grin, if that was possible.

"What do you say, Julia?" Tim asked me.

"You have to even ask?" I laughed. "Of course I'll work here, of course I will." I put my hands over my mouth in disbelief.

Abby threw another hug on me, but relinquished me after Gibbs started speaking to me.

"You do realize, Julia, that because you'll be an intern and on a different team, that…" He paused for what seemed like dramatic effect. "I have no control over which rules you break or not." He glanced to Tim, and back to me. It turned out he really knew my feelings for Tim this whole time. It wasn't really all that surprising, I guess. I figured, since it was my last day here as a lab partner and I wouldn't see Gibbs again until my internship started, I may as well do it.

I grabbed Tim's hand, and pulled it down so that his body would follow. I stood up on my toes and gave him a kiss, right in front of everybody.

Abby jumped up and down and clapped, and others had an awkward grin. Especially Tony—I guess romantic comedies weren't his thing. Gibbs respectfully lifted up—what was that, _another_ coffee cup?—his coffee and took a drink from it.

Nearly as soon as he set his coffee down, he picked his phone and placed it on his ear. He shut it not a moment later and said to the team, "Dead naval officer in the park," and then walked out. The team followed him and Abby left Tim and I for her office.

"You should probably go," I said, looking up at Tim.

"I probably should, you're right." He lingered for a bit. "You know, Julia, I'm always open for giving you rides during the summer. And if you ever need a place to stay…"

"I'm sure I'll need a place to stay every few nights or so," I smiled. "Go on, help save someone."

"I suppose I will."

Before he left, he pulled me in for another kiss.

Time to accept the fact that this all wasn't just a wonderful dream.

* * *

**Well. **

**Slightly lame ending, but that's alright, I suppose.**

**I hope you all enjoyed the ride! It was great.**

**I don't really expect there to be a sequel unless you all barrage me with ideas.**

**But I do kindof have an idea for another Tim/OC story...no plot yet, but I'm sure it'll come to me.**

**If it *does* happen to come to me, I'll type it after my Harry Potter fanfiction (which you should totally check out) and after my Phantom of the Opera fanfiction (which is still an idea at the moment).**

**I'll miss you all**

**You're so beautiful. x**

**-Amehhh**


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